What is
That place between
What Ought and
What Ought not to be
What is
I do not like it much
Except sometimes and
Sometimes not at all
What is
A snapshot in time
Never the same except
When I am stagnant
What is
Waits for me
To choose or not
To refrain or move ahead
What is
Now set, accomplished, done
The goodness or badness irrelevant now
All that matters is what is coming
Maybe you should write a memoir of this time and call it “What Is?”
Maybe. As the fog clears. And speaking of fog, how’s the poem coming?
How about a smilie for sticking your tongue out?
Yes. That’s why your writing is so important. Some “births” take longer than nine months, as you already know so well.
You know, it reminds me of birth pains. All the back and forth. I want to say to you “breathe, breathe” and then the birth. Done, whether for good or ill. And now waiting to see how it all turns out weeks, months, years down the road from now. How many times do we ask in the meantime “What is?” “What is coming now?”
You know, you are a thoughtful, wise, and generous person. I do feel like “get this thing out of me”. While I am so ready to start the new it seems I have only just begun to dilate.
I also am waiting for the next step, the next level in my life. I find that while waiting, one must still actively take steps into one’s future. I remember the Bible verse, faith without works is dead.
Yes mam. You are wise. We should be planting seeds as we go. The birds will eat some and some will be scorched and some will be strangled and some will produce 30 – 60 – 100 fold. We just don’t get to pick which ones are which. I pray only good crops for you and yours.