115


driving these winding roads,
racing from moment to moment,
racing from this
and that,
and always just passing through;
i’ve begun to wonder
when i’ll slow down
and where

more and more,
i question: why?
is it just me?
where is my heart,
where is it taking me?
does it know
what it seeks?

life has a funny way
of distracting us,
of making us doubt
who we are,
of challenging
what we think we know
and want;
it’s perverse
and uncomfortable,
but, i suppose,
that’s why this is called
growth

sometimes,
all we really seek
is a little room to breathe,
a momentary pause
along the way,
a chance to stop
and enjoy the view

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