How About Now

Strange —

I still sit here critiquing myself,

knowing tomorrow will be the same.

Turning my own pages,

scanning for words and phrases

that give my excuses

permission to breathe.

Is it broken?

Not me —

but the spirit that once

leapt from the cliffs of fear

without looking down.

So what’s next?

Oh, tomorrow.

Same script —

just slightly different weather.

Meanwhile,

I revisit changes I once swore

were non-negotiable.

Voices still scream in my mind,

as if I plan to answer any of them.

Wisdom whispers,

wisdom yells —

I just pray I recognize it

in either voice.