teetering dreams

I need to write things, so many things

And I haven't slept enough in days, or weeks, or maybe even months.

Our world hangs in nonsense balance

with all the dreams we've dreamt so widely and tightly

now in other peoples' hands.

We are teetering on the edge of stuck,

slowly sinking in the quicksand of now-ness.

There is no action push forward stress anxiety fear excitement.

There is sitting twiddling anxious unknown tied up.

It's awful and hard and makes us all snappy.

It's scary to think our plans might not work, happen, begin.

We're trying to desperately to end something that was really important

only to begin something even more important.

If we don't end, we cannot begin.

And I desperately want to begin this.

I am not blocked, I am writing.

But I am too full of all this writing

to write anything I'm supposed to.

It's good and awful.

Which is the fabric of me these days.

So I will write whatever meaningless words come to mind and fingertips,

with eyes closed and heart wide

and hope something magical comes from it all.

It's green and wide and rolling hills

promise and forgiveness

absolution for the sins we've sinned

consecration to the future for us all

bigger than ourselves

and absolutely selfish in heart

we stumbled run fly lift

and believe we can

when no one else does

I hold tight at night to dreams unspoken

and wishes loudly ringing

pray to a god unsure

and clutch the hand of who I love

let this dream not be in vain

or too late

or too much

or too little

everything forsaken and sacrificed

along the way

let it be worthwhile and real

so the realization of all the futures

laid before us will be bright

and true and shining

with sunlight enough

quiet forthcoming

abundance abounding

gratitude overflowing