While I was waiting to feel motivated,
evening had already come.
Still,
I cleared the cup from my desk.
The world didn’t change.
My life didn’t move forward in any grand way.
The resolve I made in the middle of the night
feels a little smaller by morning.
But
it hasn’t disappeared completely.
Like the water left at the bottom of a glass,
it still catches a little light.
I keep moving back and forth
between mornings when I want to change
and nights when I fall asleep unchanged.
And still,
I keep making room for tomorrow.
At dusk, a nameless bird rested alone on the power line.
Those with a home to return to, and those without one,
all end up looking up at the same-colored sky.
The more I want to be kind to someone,
the more I sometimes choose the wrong words.
Feelings of wanting to cherish someone
do not always reach them the way I hoped.
There are nights when I can’t call a day of doing nothing “a day of rest.”
I should have rested properly, and yet my heart feels like it’s still working overtime somewhere.