the beauty is in the attempt

at last an hour

of quiet music

of writing on autopilot

why i do not allow myself

to do this more often

if this is freedom

if this is flow

if it means doing nothing

taking the sun

being drinking running

playing smiling loving

if i am only made

to be of no use and it is there

that i feel most free

knowing this life

is not for me that i tried

but it is time to live otherwise

to pause who said

that poets do not work

was right

i am no poet

i do not work either

i only move

i write i try

to do something good

for others and

i make mistakes and 

i wound

i am wounded and 

i love

and afterwards

i begin again