I am a poem.

It feels like I’m marinating in love.
Like I’m carrying a thick layer of exquisite laziness.
High on life.
Yeah.
Drinking coffee feels good.
Coaching feels fantastic.
Listening to someone, or something, is a mysterious experience.
And walking down the street feels awesome.
Did you know that life can be lived with such ease and simple joy?
I feel I could carry the sun on the palm of my hand.
This is such a long way from the time when I thought I needed things, many things, MORE things.
Confidence, financial success, a six-pack, enlightenment.
Not now, not here.
I’m so sorry that I’m not able to accurately describe how this feels.
It’s just so sweet, so gentle, with a splash of excitement.
But not exactly.
The bridge to my thoughts has been raised.
There’s a skirmish going on at the other side, but it’s too far away to get engaged, or I simply can’t be bothered to even try.
It’s all a heavy mellowness, everything is slow but my mind feels clear.
Clean.
Clear.
Clarity.
I am a poem.
 
 
(Photo by @swimstaralex, for Unsplash)

Not me.

Not me.

12/10/2019