poetic living

in a recent conversation a friend told me that my life sounded like a very “poetic existence.” this being after she heard i was basically starving myself and working as little as possible to make ends meet, in order to have as much time to write as possible. i wish my existence were a poetic one. maybe i started this whole writing thing too late in the game of life. maybe not. in all honesty, if one thing got picked up, one idea, one script, one manuscript, it would all be worth it, and for that reason i still know that this is the right thing to do — but it doesn’t cure loneliness. that hope, that thought, as irrational or rational as it may be, doesn’t make up for the fact that i left family and friends behind in two different places to pursue this idea. what an idea, what an idea, what an idea. leave everything, give up everything, for a hope that at some point in the next five years, or four and 3 months now, this will all be worth it.

a poetic existence. i wish it were that. can anyone fall in love with someone living a poetic existence? how does one meet that kind of woman? say the poetic life doesn’t afford that person the means to go out and meet people, besides maybe at church or by happen-stance at your local bank, is this poetic existence doomed to be one lived alone? maybe doomed isn’t the right word here. maybe destined should be there. but it sure feels like doomed would be the correct word. some say that the life of a single person is a good life, and i’m sure it works for some. i know i wish that were true for me. but maybe this is it. maybe i just need to figure out a way to be okay with that fact that i may or may not find someone to experience this life with. if that were to be the case i wish someone would just let me know now, so i could plan for that, instead of wasting so much mental time wondering about the other alternative.

the light has come on
sputters into night
an iridescent glow against the clouds
as the sun goes down
below the line that eyes only see
another day has gone half past
one more to come
to endure

a poetic existence would be a welcome change.

~ by kevinthomas on October 12, 2008.