I Want.

There is an extension of gratitude that comes from being able to observe and record thoughts, moments and life happening around me with all of its poverty and depth, as well as its richness, all of it surface markings and all of its scars.

I want to write.
I want to be a writer.
I don’t expect fortune and fame.
I don’t expect much.

I want to support myself.
I want to continue to travel.
I want to live in a little bohemian community.
I don’t expect to be lonely.

I want to live in a place that fosters humility
I want to nourish the creative spirit.
I want to build a place where art can grow.
I want to live outside the confines of submission of the conscious mind.

I am not introverted or aloof.
I am not writhing with self-hatred or self-loathing.
I am not resentful.
I am angry.

I am a writer.
I am an observer.
I am a recorder.
I am not always right.

I stimulate thought.
I create conversation.
I arouse controversy.
I am part of the whole.

I am connected to everything.
I am plump with creative juice.
I am full of ideas.
I am aware of your feelings.

The feeling that what I am writing,
you already know, yet had forgotten.
I am merely tilling the ground of your subconscious
to grow seedlings of remembrance and possibility.

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