To Bloom and Spill
I once saw the skies brilliant and I saw valleys and seas bright with sublimity. All the world was filled to the brim with authenticity when my bones and limbs were boxy and thin. Do you remember?
We would run up and through
Every last tree
Every last pond
We would sleep outside and within
Every last dream
Every last fantasy
Today, I see all these images together and I smell the cherry blossoms; they remind me of playdates with windows open. I hear birds and breeze reminding me how it felt when I first tried to sing. Did you know that I see the same vibrancy that first made me believe I could create something worthy of being beautiful?
And so, I have.
Yes, so I have.
There are some books riddled with evidence of angst and imagination but rooted in theories of summer dreams and fantasies. Yes, there are a few dances filled with movements that I dreamed to complete and others so perfect you’d think that maybe I’m beautiful…maybe just as beautiful as you, my dear reader.
So now I’ve made a few friends and I’ve met others who make me wonder if I’ll ever make amends. I’ve written an entire world of unfinished poems, some coupled with unsung laments. Yes, I’ve made some memories I’ll never forget. By summer I’d climb mountains in body and the following spring I’d dive deep into soul sucking fountains. So now I’ve left some hills for others to carry.
Nonetheless I create and I persevere:
Into untapped potential and unknown adventures.
Into beautiful brand new stories and
Into a life still as young and as old as me.
And it’s beautiful, mostly, that I will always remember small things and I will always love you still; that I will see more summers to come and I will continue to learn what it is to live; that I will always see vibrancy and I will always be whole because I bloom and spill into spaces and pages that fulfill this adventurous soul within.