what am i even waiting for? divinity? desperation? time? what’s the use in having this fire burning so wildly through my heart if i don’t feel it and feed it?
the air flows through easy breath through unknowing lungs. it’s all right there.
what’s the use in feeling all the beauty in being so close to something unlike me or you and this world we’re told to know.
it’s magic, i get it. and it’s swimming in my bloodstream ready to be poured in ink and words stories and prose.
slowly but surely
and fast burning
feeding the fire, walking into the light.
this is mine.