Writer's Blog

Inspiration comes when it feels like it

To be continued

 80 years considered healthy, 100 in good luck.
Hours spent on learning, days to process and years to truly understand.
It makes the time to really know significantly less.
Supposed to find a subject, an interest and a goal with minutes left to spare.
Supposed to find your purpose, yet barely time to find yourself.
It’s hardly fair feeling the pressure when you’re not even halfway through. 
Yet the urge to rush my life is nowhere to be found.
Not to mourn what never was, not to think what might have been. 
Instead of rushing on, I’m inclined to take the longest road.
In 80 years, most likely less, my life is laid out plain.
To fill the days without routine, to learn the world, to learn myself.
If what is said about the journey, making the finish worth it’s while, I might always choose to always walk.
No rests, no stops, but many turns. The road and me, until I’ve seen it all. 
If I’m never to find me, I will still choose not to mind. 
If I’m nowhere near the end, I’ll still trust my choice to walk. 
I might not finish the road I’m on, to find ‘me’ at the end. 
Still I hope to have some fun.
Avoid straight lines and jump through curves, in 80 to 100.
Never finished, but always lived.

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