A Poem

 

I have a lot to do,
I’m not sure it’s worth stopping to smell the flowers.
Instead, I’ll swoop low to grab handfuls
of blooms and nose dive in,
filling my head with pollen,
while crashing forward, never halting,
still smelling flowers while always moving.

See, I cannot stop,
it pains my body to be stagnet
stillness an invitation to arthritis
allowing pain to run rampent.
I cannot stop my motion,
I choose the direction my dreams are in
and thunder ahead, and use the winds
to outrun my storm within.

However, the tempest is fierce.
There’s raindrops at my heels,
bolts of lightening striking,
sending jolts, staggering my steps
and it slows me up enough
to stop and catch my breath,
For I cannot run forever.

Here in lies the real test,
the storm so close I can feel its breath,
I throw those flowers high into the sky
and stare right into the eye of the storm.
Amongst the howls, crashing booms, flashing lights
I yell out with all of my might,
“You visicious beast, you cannot stop me,
these flowers will spread on your whipping winds,
spreading beauty and inspiration!”

Tattered and torn, weathered and worn,
there is always calm after the storm.
No matter the pain and how beaten I feel,
I will always stand up and recover,
when I am back chasing my dreams,
picking flowers while I run,
I am filled with love to use pain as motivation
to plant seeds of beauty and inspiration.

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “A Poem

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