Born a soldier, formed a poet.
I thought I was born to follow orders.
I mean, I don’t think I can blame myself for that.
All the expectations set on me from birth. I’m sure even before.
But what does a soldier do after the war? How does he find his purpose? Does he live off the victory? Does he perish from the loss?
At this point, I’m not sure if I’ve won or lost. I should be able to tell the difference.
So now I find peace in poetry. Or better yet, I look for peace in poetry.
A piece of peace would be nice at this point.
Because how do you figure out the difference between growth and war? Challenges and successes? Do they not both come together?
My biggest challenges have come from not clinging to my successes, and my biggest challenges have resulted in my biggest successes.
So I was born a soldier, but that role will now be retired.
We all fight battles we didn’t ask for, but maybe I’ve been approaching it wrong. I don’t give instructions; I follow them.
The universe has laid out a plan for me. I intend to stick to it. In the meantime, I’ll sit in front of this notebook. Writing about the battles I’ve faced. Not all have been victories, but those will be the better stories.