I hesitate to write, it’s a new feeling.
My mind is blank, or maybe too cluttered?
There is no prompt today, there hasn’t been for a while. I’ve been avoiding it.
I shy away from words, I don’t know my story yet.
This is my story, every breathing moment.
It’s the end I am mistaking it for, forgetting there will be none.
I’m unsure, uncertain, and not afraid.
I see a story here.
Isn’t it worthy of being told?
I look ahead and I don’t know what I’m looking at.
I look behind and I’ve come a long way.
Somewhere along this journey I let go of fear.
Of the unknown.
For what’s life if not unknown?
A mystery you unravel each new day.
Words can bring you closer to the truth.
But there is a whole new language beyond words.
The world speaks with you every day.
In the present.
Speak to yourself.
Look into the depths of your consciousness.
Until you make your unconscious conscious, it will dictate your life and you will call it fate.
Ask yourself – who am I?
I am who I choose to become.
Only you can know what feels right or wrong.
And what feels true today held some truth all along.
If only you can understand its language.