Step up

I was running a high last night. Driving through the dark, cranking the music up, feeling as if dreams are so fragile I need to cradle them like an egg inside me. Some are just not ready to come out yet, some need to be tended before they are released. And what a giddy feeling secret dreams are to carry. Everything seemed to be in its place – the poems I need to create, the love I need to hold, the lights guiding planes to the runway that blinked blinked blinked above me as if┬ábeckoning. I felt then, I was driving to my future.

“It’s about as close to perfection as anything you’ve ever written.” And now I’ve reset the bar for myself. Now, I’ll ride the feeling for a day because small victories when writing are no small thing at all. And I’ll sit on my step for a while, play with the stones, look through the cracks, but eventually I’ll stand, stretch my legs and take another step up, eventually I’ll want to get better again.

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2 Responses to Step up

  1. “About as close to perfection…” is plenty close enough. Poet boots have to played some part; poet everything else did the rest. Sail on, let the high carry you as far as possible and when you set down in new country, it will be time enough for whatever is next. I am happy for you; victory really knows no size.

    • rachvb says:

      I agree. Too much perfection and we have no room to expand. Total perfection is the Black Swan.
      I must definitely give some credit to my new ‘Squirrel Kicker’ boots and some to the weather and friendship and life in general.
      Thank you! On to the next! We will see what is born.

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