As many of my long-time subscribers are aware, I stopped writing last spring. Not sure why. I didn’t even care why, honestly, or whether or not I’d ever write again. Maybe I just didn’t need to. Writing is not my life’s dream. Being happy is my life’s dream. Penning my thoughts and feelings — whether for my own reflection or for for the enjoyment of others — may simply help me gain the insight to reach my goal.

Many of you know that I don’t edit my work. That job is for editors. I’m not trying to create art here, simply to communicate. That bulk of my poetry goes down as it comes out. Sure, there is much room for improvement and, someday, when I’m an old fart sitting around waiting for Jeopardy to come on, I may have the time to go back and improve all this crap. Until then, it’s as-is.

I’ve decided to force my hand again. It’s rusty, but, then, at present, so am I and I feel that polishing it up all pretty for you would be a dishonest reflection of my being. Somehow, taking a snapshot of one’s heart, mind or soul, then running the fucker through Photoshop before showing it off to the world simply doesn’t seem very genuine to me. Not to knock other writers, for their reasons for writing are far different from mine. Therefore, logic would dictate that their methods would also be different.

Here, then…is a short reflection of a little journey we’ve all been on.

-The Highway-

100 miles ahead, the sign read.
Oh, what wonders might await
In that place; my destination.

50 miles ahead, the sign read.
Images flash of all the grandeur,
Hopes and dreams of things to come.

25 miles ahead, the sign read
And plans and goals take shape;
Become real within the heart and mind.

10 miles ahead, the sign said
Great anticipation of an end
To such a long journey as this.

5 miles ahead, the sign said.
Just there, past the horizon
And it will all have been worthwhile.

1 mile ahead, the sign said.
So anxious that my heart might burst.
I finally turn to it and find…

Nothing. Just a barren space.
A place where something once
Apparently was or might have been.

Love is not here. Nothing at all.
I guess I read the signs all wrong,
So I rest, fuel up and move on.

Now I’m off to meet my dear friend and her new fiance for a drink, because life is what happens while you sit around writing about it.

Be well,