My mind drifts

My mind drifts,


to reminisce,

and to predict –


of what is 

to become.

I float

toward this unknown,

waterfalls, lakes, oceans –

new shores to rest upon;

what becomes of me

has little to do 

with the stories I tell,

and everything to do 

with the decisions I make.

My mind drifts,

and if I could,

I would plant myself

but I can’t find my feet

to ground myself;

so I plant new seeds,

leave myself 

to float away,

and begin again

some other day.


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