Always the support act, never the show.
Always the chorus, never the lead.
Always the movement but never the voice.
What were you hoping for? Recognition?
What were you doing? Vying for praise?
Why were you trying? What longing is this? Oh yes, the community lost. By telling a story, you thought you’d come home.
I want to be more than a vessel, I want to be part of the sea. Though a rising tide will also raise me, I want to be one at the front of the boat.
The restlessness rages. Stored words, scarred heart, torn spirit, fraught hope. I still want to be something I might once have been able to be.
I’m nothing special, and I think some others are. I don’t know why things are, anymore, if there’s no purpose, no justice, no point to a voice, no place for my voice at all.
A Thousand Thoughts 
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