Personal Odyssey

As I stare out into the abyss,
I consider,
Patiently,
Yet hurriedly at the same time,
The language of my own discontent,
My mother tongue if you will,
Finding that the universe keeps sending me to the fatherland,
To consider,
That which dares not be considered,
Stepping back from the abyss,
I discover again and over again,
That words are my language,
Regardless of their romanticism,
And I delight in that,
My personal odyssey,
Messy and unconstrained.

SDM