(no subject)
How I long for the days of boundless imagination
Where these four walls were not a hinderance
To where I could go
Where these same four walls were a vehicle
From which I could travel any and everyplace
Somehow I sought to escape it or change it
Rearrangement of current layout
Still it somehow escapes me
Writing, thinking, and acting in circles
Only traps me in a corner
Taken so many ninety degree turns
That I've regained my original bearings
So often
Only to lose them again
When the initial thought was
A frontside one-eighty
Some way I always manage
To revert
And through these hard lessons
Relatively speaking
I've learned things
Things are better left be
For they will sort themselves out
More easily than they will allow themselves
To be sorted
Objects aren't objects
And they object to being subjected
I too am going through it all
And searching for a way to get my light alit
And my mirror cleansed