Waiting on the Wind

or if not the wind

than something

I can’t describe

Some men make the wind

to their intolerable dislike

because nature was never meant to be forced

instead,

it waits for the you

inside of you

but it doesn’t always come out

You can have all the success in the world

and you have nothing

Some men test the direction of the wind

to know which way to go

others

get blown to god knows where

and after they’ve landed

they tell a story about their journey

that makes sense

just how, the falling leaves make sense

the fake world has no humility or pride

it’s a pretend humility

that is not self-aware

and the pride, is nothing but a logo

something people stand behind

not because they believe in it

but so they can hide.

It’s difficult to make a living with the truth

but it’s the only way to stay alive

being humbled

and accepting what is

is more freeing

than pretending

it’s not there

and the words of others

don’t hold much weight

but when they do

you feel their heaviness

and it’s okay to be weighted down

even if the wind is blowing

because,

being held by the truth

is more valuable

than going

where you want to go.

There is a fraying

at the edges

like a hem, where the rug falls apart

perhaps, it’s not important

to know who you are

and more important

to know

how to be

in the rainy cities

with the changing times

people get their groceries

and go to work

it keeps coming back to me

family

I wonder, how does one get the sense

of being alive?

it happens

regardless of what we have

or who we know

it’s a floating feeling

especially, when the ground

is waging war

being able to put down the words

is the ultimate high

and when I can’t do that

I’m waiting on the wind.