uncover

I am undercover, driving down a dim lit highway towards a small town I have never been. In a flash, while I was talking to you I became intensely jealous of those who believe in a god. I do not believe, even though I think I've given it a shot. And - not to over think it - but I wonder what it is I do believe in. Are these the things, the people, the idols, the beliefs that people put hope and faith into? I do believe in a vastness that is going to let my tugs on it create something monumental. Sometimes I get a glimpse of this when I am frustrated with my heart - the feelings created therein.

I use to keep a journal but stopped when a teacher of mine told me, in passing, that journals and poetry were a ridiculous means of expression. I wish I’d had more of whatever it was going to take to keep me writing. It took me a long time to get over the need to put pen to paper every day and now it isn't so easy to pick up again.