Rambling Plan
My Conceit
I am what I am
What I’ve always been
What I will always be
A facet of infinity.
There are times I can almost hear the song of life
A humming silence, vibrating stillness;
I am made calm by it.
With open eyes and an open heart
This world is made beautiful
I am made small
And you become part of the boundless dance.
Blessed are the broken
We’re all damaged and trampled
Blessed are the broken hearted
We’ve all seen heartache and dissappointment
Blessed are the uncategorized
We’ve all been labeled and marked and cast those notes aside
Old names, new words, old conceits
I am this, and it gives me power
I am that, and it gives me strength
Looking backward through the imperfect lens of
Memory and dreams (always slippery things in our minds)
I am made content.
They say scent is the strongest trigger of memory
My sense of smell, however, has never proven true
And I am left wondering...
I am this, and it binds me
I am that, and it blinds me
Every morning we rise and are given choices
Don the past like an old coat, comfortable and warm, easy and protective.
March out into the world with a naked being
Exposed and raw, to sew a new coat
A new costume to be and be known by.
Or take up the old coat and remake it, assessing the weight and form
And remake or unmake the choices therein.
