patterns


I feel the strength-
it starts to drip through my bones
like sweet honey…
I taste it on the tip of my tongue.

The world doesn’t see
like I do. Doesn’t hear
what I hear. Doesn’t
fall in love with
what has always been there.
My existence is in another place-
so I break free.

I take these steps these days
like they are part of a pattern-
already designed-determined-delicate.
I find faith in all that I love,
where I find my truth.
Where I can breathe.
My voice breaks free.

I find magic in what I believe.
You can see it in my eyes-
when I suddenly realize
that I’ve joined everyone else’s..
unanimous unified utopia of uselessness.
My eyes break free.

I find worth in life
that isn’t planned, isn’t preoccupied, isn’t pressured, isn’t pure, isn’t pretend, isn’t probability, isn’t precise, isn’t always precious, isn’t poor, isn’t prescribed, isn’t persuasive, isn’t always understood.
The pattern of my heart breaks free.

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