I was a whirlwind,
bright and relentless,
thoughts swirling in a tempest.
Impatience fueled my fire,
a spirit boundless, always
stretching.
Never static, always in flux,
heart pulsing with untamed fervor.
A storm of energy,
wild and unchained,
the core of me,
unleashed, hyperactive.
Words flowed ceaselessly,
an unstoppable flood.
Impulsivity guided my steps,
never hesitating.
Easily drawn to the next thrill,
mind racing like lightning,
forever seeking.
Patience a distant memory,
impatience drumming,
always in motion.
Ensnared in chains of eight
winters,
that essence stirs once more,
unyielding,
making those years
a greater challenge
than for a quieter soul.
It’s okay to pour ink onto the paper
of the past,
though it challenges my core
beliefs,
being free from anguish’s crushing grip,
submerged in
timelessness.
When I take my pen and touch the page, i
it’s a dance of now,
where past and future dissolve,
weaving poems of the Eternal Now.
