day fifty-three: weightless.

and with that

i am seemingly

weightless

in this ocean

of hurt

i am floating

free from the terrors

of the deep, dark, sea,

i am floating

silently

just waiting to find a shore

(on which i'll be washed upon)

or an open door

(on which i'll knock and if no one answers

i will knock down, because thats what hips were made for.)

and if the door does not give

and the shore does not show up

then i'll climb a rope ladder

made from my hair

i'll climb up until i can go no further

there i will build a treehouse

out of invisible boards

that will only hold me

and my pet parakeet

(the pet i don't have...)

because i have faith

in things unseen.

and with that

i am seemingly weightless

waiting for a window of

amazingly potent opportunity.