How many times do I have to let go
before I feel liberated from the weight?
It's like an incredible sinking stone
that hits the bottom
it shatters through, resurfacing
to an even deeper space
to sink in further.
How many days must I make
and fill with my life
before I feel full?
I wake up and make french toast,
I read books about theory, watch Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,
I go to work, I go to class,
I put every ounce of myself into the things I love,
but somehow still have
Somewhere I am waiting.
How many miles must I run
before I am far away enough,
before I scream and cry enough,
before I break and change and rearrange enough,
before I stop trying, and
am brave enough
to let go,
and finally mean it?