The Dance

The Dance

I often get so frustrated

That there isn’t an infinite amount of poetry in me

I know I need to write it

I can feel it in my chest

I can feel it even Deeper than that

I can feel it in the places where spirit and soul do flow

Yet there is no bridge between here and there

There is no way there I know


Or is there?


Could it be that infinity really is within?

Could it be that there is a creativity that never has an end?


It could be


I guess anything could be

That’s why we have words like “paradox” and “tension”

That’s why there’s so many unknown dimensions

Things that even quantum physics has a hard time describing

I have the choice to be stone solid or imbibing

The deep red wines of mystery

I have the choice

So though I might not have a language for what is within

I can keep dancing with it

I can keep going back and drinking from the well

I can keep breaking out of this small prison cell

Named, “This is the way it has always been.”


I can make the choice to be wild and free


I like this dance with eternity



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