If I Had More Life

I draw you–in–many don’t go down this road.
There is too much to do,

even with what we have we’re short – we’ll make it work

I see the world writing,
a new story everyday

poetry month, another year –

It’s me, it’s me, it’me,

With brave words I hide many fears,

fear of loss, of pain, of truth,

I am not the words I’ve written

It’s me, words I’ve always been,

how to use them, how I bend,

Yet in all this months time,

I’ve managed not to rend

words from within. I am dead

Never doing what I’m supposed to be doing,
and maybe I won’t do what I should,
but I’ll end up doing what I’ve done,

and that is something.

I’ve got more life!

Have you seen me with a fire?
Have you seen me when I’ve got everything together?
Just the right amount
The right mask,
A taste I can enjoy at my own pace; nothing moves at our own pace
To my own tune – I’m sacred
Off key and I’m still enraptured – a captive audience does not decide what it likes

I’ll enjoy this with ceremony