I will not leave a piece of me behind.
A piece of my flesh will not reside to melt and drown.
To ask why we did not rebel and fight, but flee.
When it was clear, it was always clear, that water was the key.

Instead a trace of play, of moments on the floor.
Words hanging in the air.
Whispers behind the door.
Time to ask questions and then look deep inside…
knowing we were looking at things, from which others would hide.

And I know paper burns and ink will run and drip.
But I’d rather shape a moment to remember, than leave a little one.

Resist the urge to procreate.
Birth a book instead.
Become strange.
Ask too much.
Never stop speaking. And listening. And actually listening in your head.

Write everything down, so your brain does not start to sink.
Always use a thesaurus, there is another word if you start to think.
Learn to drink tea to have something to sip in that sacred space.

You find stories in everyone, do not forget yourself.
Your courage and your pain are stories to someone else.

Do not be scared to write of love
For fear it has all be done
The Bard only scratched the surface,
There is far more to be sung.

Just make a start
Jump straight in
We are all just floating on this rock

Time is a concept

Money’s a joke

But love,

By gosh, is not.

By Abby Hampton.
Meaning of Life (Pending) 2021.

© Abby Hampton 2021