We can spend our whole lives figuring out what we want, what we like, what we want to live for, what fuels to be the focus of our goals. The Waiting game is a full time occupation in itself.
Maybe I am fully employed with the search of searching.
I am fully employed with the search of searching what I want to do with myself.
My occupation is in finding reasonable merit in the appetizer of occupational choices. A little this, a little that, and my hunger is always present, reminding me that I’m alive. I am a plethora of ideas, a variety of beliefs, a fractioned sense of fragmented personalities, swirling in temperate weather like the shore line, always in motion, a stillness in movement, a calmness in chaos.
Then why do impress stress onto this flight that I so consciously choose to be in?
Always found, the search is a game, mixed with one part wisdom, one part ignorance, one part fear. This world will end if we stop seeking, and we will be birthed into a new paradigm, one of which is molded by the choices we affirm to our being, our footprints etched deeply in the sands of the earth, in of terrain of our soul, the impressions of our spirit.
Maybe I don’t want to leave footprints.
Maybe I want to stay flying,
soaring with uncertainty, but a knowing
held up in the waiting game for the pure pleasure of freedom.
I don’t want to land, ever
My home is in the sky.