The glass is half full
because I’ve filled it.
There is room for you.
Fill it
or drink the freshwater.
I know how to pour
into my own glass heart.
I’ll dust the melancholy off my heart,
pull back the curtains of gloom
to see the sun of joy is shining;
open the windows of discontent
welcoming the breeze of gratitude
and fill my glass half full
or more.
If you would like to read more of my poetry please take a look at my portfolio or watch a few of my poetry readings.
My mind is a box, lately, that I am trapped inside. My optimism says there must be a door, a window, or a hidden way out. I don’t see one. All I see are wall entrapping myself in my mind causing me to be unable to do much of anything I would consider being me.
To the left is the security of my day job, creating a thick time-consuming wall. To the right is my obligations and my bills stacked as high as my job with no holes to escape from. Behind me is my past failures, current fears, and reminders that the future can not be known. There is a reason my back is towards that wall, by focusing on that wall I would sit down, stop fighting and accept the box I’m in. Above me, on the ceiling of this box are all the people, careers, and talents that I compare myself to. I place them above me, although I am the only me. Below me are all my ideas trapped under glass in a cloudy stew of tar and mire. Still I know they’re there, just like a mother knows her baby. In front of me are painting of could-be’s, maybe’s, and the future if I only live my current life . I know there are keys to unlock each painting, except for the immanent future, that one does not need a key. The keys to my dream futures are unknown, lost or far from me. I do not believe they are in this box. All I can do is stand and look at the pretty pictures hoping and looking for at least one key.
Perhaps breaking the glass under my feet will lead to a key.