testimony

See,
lately i have had this fear that i wont live up to my own expectations
that ‘ll fall short of my own finish line
and diminished time will grapple my shoulders and force me to submit.
i feel as if tears will fall and collect and my puddle will gain vast swells
swallowing me inside
drowning me until i can no longer cry
anymore
my days are filled with sighs and blank pages
inside; my soul silently enrages
and i'm warned about this stage is called what??
a quarter life crisis?
i embrace no crisis
the only word comparable to crisis is the crying i’ve done since i’ve turned twenty-five
but that’s only a soul purge
twenty five means I’m mature, too old to splurge
working on patient nerves and responsibilities
and responding to students that need to hone their abilities
they look up to me…
like a monument standing tall, eclipsing the sun,
they don’t squint, bright eyed and hungry for instruction
they don’t doubt that the outside world could lead a soul to destruction
if steered wrong
but as they run with me, soaking up the carefully placed words
their understanding will lead me to my finish line
and my fears cannot live in their lives.
i leave 'em at the door;
could you imagine if I used my life to give ‘em nothing to hope for?

so i find refuge
using their eyes as the windows to my escape
free falling through minds
journeying through the compos mentis presenting a conscience to the conscious
my inner lost adventurer discovers a new route and
the vices in my life
work like the devices that have been banned while driving
distracting
and fatal.
and no one fancies a fatality.
i lost a friend a few weeks ago making death
a first hand reality.
and i could not image leaving all of these touched souls behind…

[unfinished]