restless hope

Sometimes I can't sleep.
I'm too excited.
I'm too excited about life and living and loving,
Learning life, really
My heart performs a small jig,
Thoughts begin their foot-tappings on my spirit

There's a fire in my belly--
This fire, the true sun,
The real sustenance of life since time first breathed:
Hope.
The flames flutter and leap
Tumble up my insides and spill out in to, atop, over and above, my outsides.
The tiptoes of my mind
Are ready to move in on tomorrow
And the next day
The next year
The next sixty years
Of structured unstructure
(It's planned out
But not pinned down and penned in on a timeline,
Written in perfect no-fun font)

Tomorrow I'm moving on.
Tomorrow, the fire in my belly becomes an engine that propels me
Towards something different and new
Maybe not something easy or care-free
But an experience,
A downright colossal mess and bumble of people and places
Rain bare feet language motion music life

Tomorrow might be a blundering stumbling drunken old man
Or a clear-eyed fiercely-poised lawyer
Who walks impeccably in heels
I don't know

But tomorrow night
When I lie down to dream once more
I will have changed.
I will have evolved in some way,
However slightly or drastically,
But I will be different.
I will have hoped and breathed
Been let down?
Perhaps.
But lived?!
Certainly.