insomnia poetry

In time,
the autumn leaf will crumble into the earth

creating a new tomorrow,
which may take centuries, and all that surrounds us
will change into different versions of life.

In time,
the landscapes will change
(and so will you)
like an old piece of driftwood that floated across the ocean….
It was part of something, once
but now,
its story lays faded and washed upon the shore
say, like somewhere on the beaches of Montauk Point

We all have our own stories
We all have our own façade to dress us when we misbehave
……..and to crumble
when there’s nothing left to hide behind.

In time,
You and I will look back at the way we were

We will reminisce and laugh because age
has taught us the meaning of nonsense

and the things we thought were important,
will be meaningless.

A day will come,
When you and I will be a memory
(like the driftwood on the beach)

We’ll be a story, or if I can pull off my trick,
we’ll be an entry in a novel
and someone, somewhere,
will read about us and learn.
(Like we did)

In the process of my life,
I think the hardest part is letting go
and opening myself to change.

I mean….
Who would I be, if I wasn’t angry?
or on the edge

or cool, or popular
or tough
or any of the lies I told myself I should be
….but couldn’t

Who would I be if I were scaled down to the core
after the façade crumbled,
and I had nothing left to hide behind?

Who would I be if I didn’t have the answers,
or at least pretend to?

I never knew there was bravery in the term “Surrender.”
I never knew about the victory in walking away
or the justice in standing alone,
instead of living in crowds.

I never knew I could stand on my own
…without holding on
or hiding behind a mask

But I’ve learned over the years
and in time

…….so will you

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