In the Stream

Reflecting on my years
periods more distinct based on emotions
than chronological time.

I have so much to look back on
from trauma to love,
my god, have I lived already.

Simultaneously grateful and discouraged
Everything means something,
so nothing means anything really

But still I've learned to make meaning,
that meaning is the realest dimension of life,
a uniquely human plane.

As I age, I grow more weary.
Trudging through the world,
yet still more confident in the strength of my will.

Sometimes I feel like a hurricane,
sometimes like the eye of the storm...
the flow between order and chaos,
fluctuating fluid floating frighteningly freely.

C'est la vie,
sometimes it be like that,
just keep on keepin' on.

There is a stream of wisdom that only comes with time,
in part it is reflexive,
recognizing its limited perspective.

Every day I can feel the connections
budding and blooming in my mind,
neurons branching and reaching.

Building more bridges 
and burning the ruins,
all aflame with inspiration.

Stronger still,
I grow following the sun.
As a flower turns to gulp the rays,
I stretch toward my dream of sensational harmony.

Upside down and downside up,
my eyes reflected back at me
don't look quite the same in this light.