I’ll spend my time replaying those moments,

many in my life that mean nothing today.

I’ll self examine chapters that write themselves

while waiting for definition and conflict.

The room is quiet, pretty lit up and 

looking as lived in as I’d like it to be.

This is my home, has been for years.

I joke of one day being carried out the door.

I have many hours, when I wonder about now.

Nearby my dog is basking comfortably.

I look at her and I realize my responsibility.

So when will that definition of life occur?

What is now, that will one day offer clarity.

Soon to bed in a while imagining my dreams.

Where do my goals and adventures land?

I sometimes lay at rest and feel the hours

that will be needed to enhance my adventure.

Will it be friendships and scowls or a ruse,

pretending that life is a journey, then it’s not.

All my questions remain as they did yesterday,

knowing my humanity is always vulnerable.