Tally marks with my blue ink
record how many times I have dreamt
of a living life far from the fingers of fear.
What is it that calls,
that lures me into doubt’s worry wrought lair?
Bitter and brutal is the sting of uncertainty.
Unknown to us all, future, most crippling to me,
to know that I will never know what will be
but a mystery to me until its hour strikes.
Do I dare to enter this world
with such fears for what is to come,
yet so open to all the universe has for me.
Paradox of a youthful heart,
I have seen more than I was dealt,
more than I was prescribed
in this haste to question mark existence.
Drenched in ink,
perchance the adventure, the eagerness of it all
shall blot out my worry written
tally marks that tally to nothing
in the face of everything.
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below.
“Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”