Alive

I think sometimes that it’s not enough
to be just enough
for existence’s sake;

not enough to stand in the wake
of your life rushing off
to greet your fate;

not enough to let moments pass
without taking a chance
‘cuz your hands might shake;

not enough to run from love
for fear that
your heart might break.

What is it that makes you feel alive?

For me, it’s the look in someone else’s eyes
when you talk and they see you,
straight through your lies and sweet alibis,
and still wanna be by your side.

For me, it’s the laughter that heartache brings
three hours after the vodka when the dawn bird sings
and you’ve stayed up talking ’bout crazy things
and you feel like this friend’s given you wings.

For me, it’s the tip-tap of little feet
when my goddaughter announces her pedicure’s complete,
but she’s only two, and it’s so sweet ’cause
she’s pure and innocent and ready to beat
down the doors of this universe, being hardly discreet,
to make the world worship at her feet.

For me, it’s the music that moves my soul,
the poetry that makes me feel whole,
the chaos when life’s outta’ control
and all you can do is just not let go
of what makes you feel,
what makes you real,
what makes dawn break and the world appear,
what makes the earth shake, bringing mortality so near,
what makes love push you past the point of fear,
what makes you bleed,
what makes you tear,
what makes you wanna’ stand up and cheer …

because it’s not enough
to be just enough.

At least, it’s not for me.

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