Eruption

My path
Is, always has been,
And
Always will be
To be
Different.

Dissuasion,
Try as it might,
Is futile
At best.

Because now is the time to write.
Because now is the time to make meaning.
Because now is always the time.
Because the time is never now.
Because,
Otherwise,
When else are you going to do it?

The past looms up
Large
In unexpected moments,
And we can’t help but be
Transported
To all those feelings,
All that time,
That reality,
That mind
That no longer is,
But rather was.

And we think of it fondly
In its perpetual difference from now:
Sometimes pining for
And sometimes railing against
It.

To all the words that floated away,
My deepest,
Humblest
Apologies.