how does one find a voice and use it
not to speak it but to create art in the written form
only the best don't pour a bit of themselves into the recipe
to create a character and write in their voice
not my narrow-minded own
no but to become another and tell their story
how can one ever decide whom to embody
so many fauxs in a universe of prose

there's a child-like innocence that I see in you
honesty that's been filtered and strained
with no filter
leaving the purest of honest with sediment left behind
and I see an old soul
the shaman who connects with the disconnect
and accepts for what is not
in a poetic manner that hurts
and mostly because it doesn't hurt

well that's what happens when we talk
turns out a screen need not keep us safe
boldly we address the past
and it turns out
neither of us have the courage to be

we swallow a laugh and cry to we have the courage to see
with no definitive answer as to whether that is actually courage
does the coward mediate?
or stick to the safe side

we wade in our safe sides
you and I
knee deep in mediocrity

something more- it's out there
will we find it?
I don't know
can we walk those miles to reach that one place
the place things seemed so clear?

or are we ignoring the fact that it's accessible from our back door
where it may be
is it the mountain tops and vast plains
or the courage to be?

You can’t lose something you never had
But can we gain it?
Why I think so.
The courage to be is rooted in you and me.