A Beautiful Mess

It seems like a long time ago
I was swept up in the breeze
and the world seemed simpler
and the days felt long
and rolling through the grass in the
summer
was warm and bright and the
wind spoke my name.

But things change.

Colors become muted
and life turns into some
convoluted
substituted
and utterly perplexing
mess.
Talent fades and the world feels
darker.
Time feels faster and colder and instead of
my world being defined by
warm summers and inviting springs
the universe reveals itself as a big,
writhing
mass of hatred and utterly
obtuse anger.

It's a burglar of optimism.

My world felt like a seed
carried along by the whimsical breeze
free to go where it pleased
to root in the soil and wait for spring.
But when I bloomed I realized
that my whole world was nothing but a
crack in the concrete
of an urban jungle.
Stepped on
trampled
damaged
by the unforgiving flow of life.

I could hope for a better tomorrow.
I could hope that passersby will watch their step,
I could hope for someone to dig me up
and place me in a field of
flowers.
But hope is weak.
I'm going to get up
and put on my shoes
and use these legs
to take me wherever they may
to once again find the color in this
breathtaking
earth shaking
and utterly beautiful
mess.