Only Typing

Sometimes, you’ve got to slow down and let the poetry catch you.

Even though the sunrise glides while I sleep, I still think it happens too fast because I miss it daily. By the time I awake, the miracle has already had its happy ending. Eyes blink open, muscles flex, legs stretch and technology prepares my breakfast- like a preprogrammed fairy tale born of roman, mythical imagination my life can be considered the ultimate in poetic statements…

And daily I miss virtually all of it… Like that small family photo tucked inside my wallet- I see what I love so much that I forget to stop and love it…

Sometimes, you’ve got to slow down and let the poetry catch you.

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This is what I’m thinking to myself as I lay on my bed watching my beautiful girlfriend puttin work in on her laptop as she sits in front of my couch. At first I had my eyes closed in peaceful pseudo-slumber, but then they popped open and I rolled over and looked at her… I mean reeeallly looked at her. Sittin there all lovely and focused with frown lines of productive concentration creasing her mouth… And it dawned on me- I don’t look at her that much. This may sound weird, but if you’re tryna live holy then you know what I’m talkin about…

And it was in that precious, admiration filled moment… That poetry caught me.

A sense of awe overtook me, and words that I already knew took on brand new meaning… The live right fight can pay off in powerfully small ways it seems… Poetry overtook me. ME. The poet. The Wordsmith. Overtaken masterfully by the mastery of my own element…

And she was only typing.

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