You can't force this
it is something that comes
you can help cultivate it
but you alone
are not the creator
it is not about you.
You are only a factor in the equation
and the more you try to manipulate,
your fate will
peel back your skins
leather so thick
rough and tough
until you're a soft pink ball again
breathless and still.
You're too into that membrane
it's a pounding head throb that is caused by your
attempt to control which
traps your soul and
forgets who they were at the end of the day
where did you envision you life right now anyways?
the other day
i played with white soap bubbles
and made them into a beard
like Walt Whitman
or the photo of a child, in their innocence,
naked in the tub...
and in that moment
where I was throwing tiny white clouds
I realized why I was here
I still am that soft pink ball.