sometimes...

Sometimes, I feel like the little kid who barges in on the big people's conversation. Sometimes, I have so much to say, but of such insignificance. Sometimes, there's nothing like a sock of inadequacy into the belly of self-importance. Sometimes, when you've been doubled-over for so long you never stop to even ask why everyone else seems to be standing straighter. Sometimes I ask, 'Or are they?' Sometimes, I have too little to do and more than enough care with which to do it. Sometimes, from afar off, I can see the bigger picture, but those are often on my detours to nowhere. Sometimes, I become aware of how conscious I have been of the terminal frailty of my living moments when I know I'm really alive. Sometimes, the inner spaces hurt with the same aliveness. Sometimes, I argue with the silences. Sometimes, I feel I am wonderfully braided together, enmeshed with the fabric of true friends. Sometimes, I amaze myself and no one else. Sometimes, I can't believe I didn't die when I was fourteen. Sometimes the inward journey is simultaneously invigorating and imperiling. Sometimes, I feel the desire of life in the smallest of creatures. Sometimes, I feel I need to get away from myself. Sometimes, I like calm better than storm. Sometimes, I miss my family of origin. Sometimes, I realize I've been missing them since the beginning. Sometimes, it's best that no one knows that the heavens have a song for me- the echoes of which I hear faintly. Sometimes, I don't even realize that people don't care about tornadogenesis. Sometimes, I can't believe how much life I've been given so far. Sometimes, I relish the fool I am becoming. Sometimes, I wonder who's REALLY left home for the Kingdom. Sometimes, I'm mad because some get to plow for the Kingdom in the proximity of or right on the family plantation. Sometimes, I wish I was the child again lying with my dad that night watching that bright-orange fireball meteor blaze across the sky. Sometimes, I can't believe I'm actually going to be thirty-five, while still being filled with the wonder of an eleven-year-old. Sometimes, I think I'll look back at this time in my life and be at a loss for words. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll ever get there.