The following is an homage I wrote in honor of my favorite poem, Emily Dickinson's "I Dwell in Possibility."
I wrote it three years ago, and have been editing and coming back to it ever since. I hate writing poetry, because everyone I know loves to write poetry but hates to read it, so I often find it pointless. But we can make exceptions, right?
Where to Begin
Where
to begin--
When
divulging ones soul--
Seeking to create merely a Spark
In
a world fueled by Fire--
Noted or not
Our
Leaves sway in time--
We dance about the Day
As Roots curl from Creation--
Mundane habits
Sprung
from such starts
The
white of the Page
My
Sprout--
Where
do we dwell--
Nowhere
but possibilities,
Dancing by the Fire
Swaying with the Trees
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