struggling to write
not in the moment
but in life
i find myself

on a grey december morning
with echoes of songs once sung
and ideas of what lost is

i have surrounded myself
with piles and walls
serving what purpose?

its amazing that the body
can go from content to cold
with such little change

am i ready to do this
to do what is completely necessary?

is there anyway i can truthfully know
any of the answers to my questions

how can i be for sure

is there a way to make sure
is there a way to turn this insecurity
in my future
into security of action?