Well. Edits. Clarifications. Greater ambiguity. Drafted it, more edits, put it back out now.

Finally.

Now sleep can come.

I've had a head full of thoughts
And a body full of...everything, and I couldn't sleep for it all.

I pulled my notebook and just like the old days, words poured out.

A poem, of sorts. It follows no set course of flow or pattern. As with most of what I do, I have to let it live in the shape it has chosen for itself. I'm not worried that others won't like it. It is my delivery of experiences happening, and that it will likely mean little, if anything, to anyone else, matters not a whit to me.

I used to write poems, and songs, constantly. They came faster than I could write, at times, and covered everything happening in my life. All that I saw, thought, felt, learned, let go...

Oddly enough, in my memory, I can't recall a poem of love, not for one that was real, at any rate. Not for anything other than the mtn, life, my horse. Not all that surprising when I hadn't ever tasted what that could be like at that point. Not the sweet, clean true taste of love.

This one has been slowly working to the surface, growing and discovering itself on the pathway up to out.

And I understand more now about myself, for the writing of it. Frightening in ways. Exhilarating in others.
Reaffirming to myself what I had already begun to suspect. What I have refused to run away from, for the first time in my life. 
No labels. 
I have to add...perhaps no labels because of that fear that has always sent me running. But I don't want to run this time. Not at all.
Just grateful acceptance and wide-eyed wonder at the unnamed thing.
The journey journeys on.

In a short space of time it came
Ready to be born
To live
To be known.

There may be definite benefits to fatigue, extreme caffeine and ibuprofen doses and pain.
(I fell down the stairs, pulled out the big guns to fight off the brain fog and fibromyalgia I can feel brewing in response to trauma spots)

It's in draft.
I'm not ready to share it.

But it makes me smile.
It's full of good things.

Maybe someday it will see light.

And now...
I can sleep.