'...from the fat...'

Earned enough? In this year-long fast from heavy self-analysis?
November approaches and that novel begs again - to be continued.
How much applicable knowledge has been boiled from the fat of distractions...
To imply that 'yes' in this last, past year of living, I chose wisely.

And too, sensitivity seems to form a warm coat around these tensed shoulders
For all I have strong-armed in the name of what's 'good'.
The weight of carrying on, it is, subjective;
The wildly rotating compass of a needle that fights to steer free

From pause.

Incredible.

What are we catering to
In this infinite loss of 'fitting in'?
This grind of bland, blunt, normalism
This context of seasoning-less empty
Promoting monosyllabic grunting
And smiles following the glut of 'safe'.
Interior design shimmies
Under the lamplight of division
Carting away the 'taught' behaviors
That would have us bound and gagged-
To the luster of too many.
Droves of deviated idea
Digressing the further I wander;
"O, untraveled path, take me home to unknown places..."

This gate is hinged to wind and birdsong
To water trickling down from leaves
Bathed in the uncharted rainfall
Leaking softly from an unknown heaven's whims.

Unlock these limbs from followed behaviors
Diminishing devices obliterate the disease of the mainstream

"I do believe we're only passing through..."

"All fired up on you..."

What if it's me, "I say" to myself
And a new smile forms;
It is me, me and the winding path that kindles its way
Loosely, lovingly, and sometimes, laboriously
Through this life:
This life of formidable retrospect
And incredible potential.