A subconscious thought or dream
that somehow snuck up on me.
Without rhyme or reason,
It lurks behind doorways, it hides behind lies.
Everyone’s doing it,
We all wish for it to
The inevitability of it I couldn’t foresee
When I graduated at the age of sixteen.
Yet here I am, there I was
A dream, a goal, a wish, a buzz.
Do I feel young, or do I feel old?
I’m a teenager walking,
Staring at skyscrapers:
Giant buildings ripping through clouds
Visions, dreams, fame, wealth, fortune, goals, success, maturity.
Age is a number that we all own,
merely a temporary loan.
Another year, another day, another instant
Who am I?
Driven by the impulse to write
To breath out thought, to thoughts unite
The addiction of finding myself in rhyme.
An elaborate plan I’ve orchestrated
Here I am, there I was.
I press on now to an unknown goal
riddled with terror, relief, and gold.
Till in a flash of light I find
A soul unique to mine.
Awaiting the day,
I push forward.
Writing, breathing, finding, searching, praying, studying, working, living,
A deluge of music that is my being.
The strain of age fades away
in light of all that will come today.
A deep breath, a morning grin, a cup of coffee
I will now
Here I am,
I am here.