One good thing

One good thing about moving (I've done it too much over the past few years) is that it forces you to uproot, to go through things, to clean up life, and to read old notes and journals. :) I found myself doing this tonight. Laughing, thinking, being reminded of my heart, prayers, and the things that overwhelmed me at times.

I found an attempt at a poem. Thought I would share. (It's one that doesn't follow the rules. Naturally. :))

Blank pages are my current state
And what feel like my eternal one
In days gone by my pages were full
Colorful, sporatic, used, revisited, shared
Sometimes I feel my pen's ink has dried
And it's for some reason my fault
I am tempted to believe that I must quickly splash something onto them
But just something?
No.
I want to carefully fill each page with beautiful colors and stories.