Into The Earth
I read somewhere that we can’t choose but serve — strive, that is — even if sometimes into the earth even when we’re coasting slowly towards rebirth
I read that we must ask: what/who’s my master? so we can change our course or pick up speed towards the end we seek unwittingly, too often and kneel, at last and meet, at last our earth
I also read — in that white space that coils around important words announcing latest truths — that the romantic strivings of young girls are pathetic — we girls should want far more than boys
And I could not agree more — could not grieve more that all my teenage gods were merely idols my prayer — shortcoming hopes and dreams — abuse
I read a lot — yet I can’t find my master inside, beneath commotion is a void
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