I remember when I could string words together,

they danced across a legal pad in my hands.

I’d tear out each sheet and hang them on my wall,

soon to discover a kaleidoscope of inspiration.

I used to do that every day, seldom missing a time

when all my words were searching for a space.

Seems today, the same abundance of words

exists in every breathing moment in my life.

Still I’m searching to find some even ground,

where what I believe has a solid foundation.

If I could only understand one manner of truth,

could it be then so simple to carry on with my life.

I’ve often found myself staring at a sky so blue,

I couldn’t imagine beauty wearing any other mask.