In the past, I have read some very deep poetry that did not seem to speak to me. I later found out that prose was so personal it could not be known by anyone but the author. This might be one of those for you to not fully grasp. I hope it will fulfill you in some way if only for a uniqueness.
In my head are the drops of life running around.
Silently shifting from side to side without a sound.
Then enters the demanding, pushing, rush of everyday
I know without a doubt, many detours are in my way.
I bob and weave discussing with my thoughts so near
Knowing I am the captain of the ship, I now must steer.
With purpose, I grasp at what I can solidly and tangibly hold
Wishing to continue as long as I am able to be so bold.
Hoping I do not throw out what really should be kept
Then again not keeping those thoughts on which I wept.
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