I'm on the lookout for something real
in a sea of masks,
hoping to find
the rare authentic connections
that make me feel so at home
that I forget to wear mine.
I wade into this river of all that is,
trying to ignore the talking points,
the endless arguments,
what's right, what's wrong.
What I refuse to be sticks to me.
One here and there, what do I care?
But before I know it,
those sticks turn to stones
and now the river ceases to flow.
You will never know the ONE TRUE ANSWER,
because there isn't one.
There are many.
How do I know which answer is mine?
Listen to the part of yourself
that has never tasted
a strawberry through human lips,
and yet loves that the potential exists.
Below what is conscious
lies a river of experiences
that you can weave into your existence,
a lifetime of wisdom
lived by someone,
somewhere,
sometime.
All you have to do is
choose
and then
drink.
Let each potential be like
flowers in the garden that you tend
calling out,
inviting you,
to inhale their scent,
from time to time.
Bring all of yourself
into each moment.
And then move on.
🔮B
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