Poker in the Sky Or Something

Photo by&#160;<a href="https://unsplash.com/@findingforte?utm_source=unsplash&#38;utm_medium=referral&#38;utm_content=creditCopyText">Jordan Jensen</a>&#160;on&#160;<a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/ghost?utm_source=unsplash&#38;utm_medium=referral&#38;utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a><br/><br/>Somehow the days escape, I couldn't saywhat makes the hours fly. I'm sitting stillin frantic meditation, cloaked in grayan empty ghost, but seeking out the willor voice--some higher power, call to me!Where may I put my foot into the streamand rise to wakefulness, now truly free,be more than spirit in a world that screamswith concrete angst? This blood and steady bone,these human parts insist on being felt.Defy the knowledge we are all alone,refuse now every card that you are dealtand live in the despite. They name their game;I only wish that I could play the same.<br/><br/>&#8212;<br/><br/>January 2020 felt like it was a year long.<br/><br/>And, at the same time, it feels like it&#8217;s flown by. So much time has flown by, and it feels like I&#8217;ve achieved so little&#8212;especially if you look at the number of poems I&#8217;ve written, or the number of Medium posts I&#8217;ve done. I feel like I&#8217;m waking back up.<br/><br/>And yet, I envy the people who are able to jump into the stream, who are in the middle of the action, who are getting things done. <br/><br/>I am quietly here. In the background. Slower than the whole rest of the world. But I am here. And that will have to do, even if I am envious of everyone else, moving at the world&#8217;s speed.<br/><br/>I&#8217;m going to try for a sonnet a day this month. Something to wake back up, you know? <br/><br/>Get full access to Sonnets &c. at <a href="https://zjppoetry.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast">zjppoetry.substack.com/subscribe</a>