I want to live a life
where everyday is a poem.
The days are poets.
Experiences are different forms.
The hours are stanzas.
Minutes, lines. Seconds, words.
Words---or a translation of reality.
The only breaks that come are
the infinitesimal silences
that don't exist between each moment.
Those around me are muses.
Yet, my inspiration comes from
not a synapse, but from my discovery
of reality---of course, I am unsure of its realness.
I want to live a poetic life
where feelings inside and out are one,
where a discovery leads to finding that
he wasn't looking for anything but now.