Stories out of my reach

WhatsApp Image 2018-07-31 at 07.38.59

Stories out of my reach.

Too many, too soon.

I chase them.

In sleepy mornings.

Or tireless afternoons.

Holding a pen, I write ferociously.

Thoughts that float like ideas.

Beholden forever in my limbic.

But lost in the passing second.

These are memories from my past.

As trajectories for my writing.

Governing my characters and stories.

Defining my future and its chances.

Whom do I write for, you ask.

No one but me I think.

To experience my life’s givings.

And value its meaning.

To acknowledge struggle as a teacher.

And laughter as my secret keeper.

Remember hurdles that don’t make sense.

Are pivots to knowing myself.

Stories out of my reach.

Too many, too soon.

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