poetry

I want to travel
Before I’m old and grey barked
My roots having sunk so far into the ground
The ground is sinking choked by me.
I want to see the things and do the sights
Before I can’t so easy and free
Not wait until the baskets and buckets
Fill with to do and wishes
Waiting to be tended at and gather dust meantime.
I want to read and hear and write
The stuff of dreamscapes and movieland showtales and talltunes.
And prove to me
Everything
Everyone
Ever said about what they would think
Is just that, merely would think;
If that what is actually lived, then the think and would and they
Don’t matter.
My fingers tap along the letters
And the words fall from my eyes
And I smile to myself
Creating this
Not proving anything to anyone
Except, Accept myself.

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