Have yet to learn to channel it and use it well.
Good or bad, it's all been cast out for viewing.
Seeking things that seem implausible and impossible,
but I so want them to be true and within grasp.
Intention and mindfulness and specificity,
yet letting it all be and flow through.
That's the aim.
But God does it suck.
Last night I sobbed up against the edge of my bed
on the floor, pressing against it for comfort and touch.
Thinking of the ways I've reached out to others for relief.
Who's to blame?
They didn't know, I didn't know.
I wanted what we all want,
a bit of peace and joy and relief.
I didn't mean to break my own heart or burn down others
along the way.
Didn't know the power, the value,
the need to be with myself and be indifferent.
Attachment is the root of suffering.
I think about that again and again.
I've attached so anxiously, so preoccupied
with others and things outside my realm.
I didn't know, I swear I didn't know.
Turning new leaves, left and right, here and there.
Finding ways to release the anger and the bitter.
Remembering why I grew out my hair, my mane.
Recalling my name: Alexandria.
Mom always said I was a wonder of the world, the library.
She was burned down and with it, knowledge and potential lost.
I don't want to burn myself more than other circumstances have.
Control what we can, leave the rest.
Do not focus on the rest. Just rest.
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