Withered, wasted, wanted, but not for lack of sleep

This heart has known no trail but that of defeat.

Wanted, wasted, weathered in this place of self-loathing and despair

I know not what life has to offer me outside the joy of my own

Wallowing.

What have I given in this life?

What is the purpose of this strife?

Where is the joy that I wish to see in my world?

I have not yet given it life in this day, this week, this year.

I have donned a selfish fishbowl on the lenses of my eyes

And need neither my wants nor my selfish desires of the heart.

I need only love of self, of my neighbor, and my mother who supports my feet.

She is my foundation.

She is of earth and water and fire and water.

She is all I have longed for in my own desires.

How I have taken her for granted, this loving mother

Who feeds and clothes me and puts me to sleep

Each night under a blanket of stars and willowed darkness.

I have appreciated her with only half my heart but as I lie here

In this grass and count the clouds I am comforted by

The Love

I’ve never seen in myself

Reflected her skies.