These powerful words struck me. Much to look forward, but direction, we will see. Ideas are cluttering my world, so many paths believed to be the correct one. People wonder when can I see my future.
No answer I am not a mind reader. It is a beautiful day and all worry about is who I want to be. Right brain dominating, creativity is like pedal to the metal boys. Neurons’ moving an idea is coming into the visual sensory display.
Message conveyed life has granted me a way. The story I want to profess is a legacy. Draw the line in the sand at best hungry as well. The appetite for the search is at peace for the moment. Poetry is my way of telling a story. It describes the normality in my thought that sometimes is lost in anagram of thought.
So what do I stand to gain from telling you what I know is brewing inside. Probably will be called out once. I am sure they will not wait this time for my back to turned. Laughter will populate their need to feel superior. Meanwhile I do not feel insecure for the first time. Sarah Kay has given inspiration in a bizarre epiphany will observing her speak. I chased one of the many characters I have created. The only difference between the past and this present, futuristic rambling is I believe. There is a reason behind wanting the perfect way of representing the individual attitude.
Claiming ownership over my many transitional stages that today come to a halt. Her narrative made me realized I have never ridden the New York subway system. The experiences I am missing as a stranger to this great repertoire of history. A story to be told in the springtime is my obligation.
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