I guess I’m wonderingif it’s ok that my soul doesn’t have much to say.
Not that there’s serenity or “Nirvana”things are still up in the air. Thoughts won’t catch folding nicely into crafted stories middle beginning end.
Most sentences end with an ellipsis nowadays…
How can everything be connected and am supposed to understand the ramifications of every actionand still be creating?
I have lost my perspective.
I don’t have anything to say because I’m angry and angry I’m outraged and sad that I’m angry and outraged and sad.
It’s easy to hidein the shadows of skipped stitches in stories wovenby people who are not me.
Shhhh they say. Say nothing It’s your life purposeHide behind cloth woven.
I turn away, towards something else.It’s easier…