Today is Day 11
Lost In A Sea Of Other
You should not care to hear the heart of one who lost
Their way in a sea of other
Ways and words and genres
This is not about war or poverty or political crises
But a crisis of confidence
Does everyone who breathes not know this
It’s surely not a minor cord in a major symphonic performance
Of an artist’s life
So if you would choose to bow out now
Not read the lines of poetic gazing into the petri dish
Of the writer’s soul
I for one would not blame you
For those of you who are left
Passion should burn
And if it leaves
Or if it fades
Oh the grieving should then begin
And so I am lost in a sea of other
Wise enough am I, I shall find my way out
But simply
Poetry or whatever you named your passion
That day you uncovered it
Wants a little piece of me
And I
Willing to not go in with just my
Toes in the shallow end
Will swim out to sea
And rescue the me
Who is lost in a sea of
Other
Genres
You may substitute poetry
At any point with the things
You have lay down
Dormant
Resting in the soil of your soul of longing
You know it
As well as I
That which lights you up and makes you shine
Like the night sky’s first star
Ever present
Ever pointing
Ever calling, leaving you restless by night and creating by day
Always pointing
Toward the Giver of the passion
I would have asked for anything but this
But I notice He gave me a love
For poetry.
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This is Day 11 of a 31 day Series on The Art of Noticing. All previous posts may be read here.
“We already are the poem of God. Nothing we do can change that.” Emily Freeman in A Million Little Ways. Thought of you when I read these lines…they fit your poem, today. And each day.