boots

Sometimes I'm serious. Sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I play nice. But really, how often is that?

\

beached

these ideas rise up
swell and break on this narrow strip I’ve claimed
unable to discern between the
natural course
and the rage of the water
I’ve been pacing the sand
waiting for a grander thought
to crush me with its weight
wash away the rest of the unscheduled chaos
that won’t flicker out
when the sun goes down

who's that girl

© Chip Bulgin

wohin

It is hard not to wonder where this is all leading.

All of the choices that have shaped my life, the people I've met, those I've let go and why, the places I've seen... all of these things alone are anticlimactic, and I feel hollow when I look at the individual parts.

Where is this going? My path has never been straight. I've never been inspired to walk toward one goal, solve one problem, or achieve a particular standing. I can only surmise this is the foundation of this aimless wandering.

I know I will never wake up and say, "I've arrived." I will never be there. But only recently have I woken up, just a few mornings, and been completely at peace with the state of my life, and more importantly the exact moment I lived. Why has it taken me so long to be present?

Is this how is feels to wake up and feel like "I've arrived?"

move on

Another day, another city.




© Otto Focus