When I don’t know where
I’m meant to be
It’s like being in some sort of
Purgatory. A space
Where I am out of place,
Too close yet far away
From any kind of signpost that might say,
Hey! You’ve made it, or you’re past halfway
To being found.
How I wish that that could be the case some days.
Mostly at night
When my eyes are wide open and my mind,
It’s like my mind is engaging in a race, and
Always then I feel lost.
Shot in both legs, like drowning in an ocean of indecision.
With precision I map out the location of my doubt,
And it resides within myself it needs cutting out, incision.
A small scalpel into my scalp to reach my brain
And eradicate the faulty navigation system
So that I may find the right path again.
When I don’t know where I’m meant to be I pray.
I look to God and just before I speak I hesitate.
Being lost is part of living, so should I wait before I beg
To know where I am going, I think I’d rather not know instead.
Not know what adventures
There are in getting lost,
With possibility of adventure,
I think it’s worth the cost.
Being in an unknown place is something we often appreciate after. So…
No map, let me run without conviction and let’s see if I run faster.