Day 30: I'm Still Here

When I started writing this blog, my purpose was to write for others, to eliminate the need to think about a purpose to write but to write to the world. It is easy when you don't know your audience, to be able to communicate with no sense of having someone write back. But in the past and in between moments I felt as if I was communicating my version of what you wanted me to write, it is impossible to eliminate the whole of me from my writing. There's a lot of people, including some who mattered most to me who would think writing came so naturally to me that it isn't anything special when I write, but for me it was still amusing that I could write. I did not have an agenda when I first started a month back, for a brief period of time it was my way of talking when I thought no one wanted to listen, but in my own way I am glad people read. In writing this piece I want to recollect the bit of us we feel we lose someday and the pieces we gain from time to time. We are not normal, atleast I am not and probably never will be, and in looking for normalcy, just know I'm Still Here

I'm Still Here
I am still here my early sunshine, my shelter from rain,
From the places I often go to in my mind and the ones I escape
I am still here my silent road, my inspiration,
Among the ones less traveled , even in plight , in simple desperation

Pick up the broken pieces my friend, we are too brittle to be left behind,
You are the puzzle I keep putting back in place, but you change just a little bit every time
Can you play the old record in your head, can you hear music we no longer make,
Does the world still sway on Friday nights, among the days you wish you could take a break

I'm still here in writing, in the things you think; don't come as special to me,
In between the times you visit your inbox, among the little pieces I wrote to set us free
I'm still here my morning retreat, my wishes from a place far far away,
Unlike the magic kingdoms and fairy tales, the ones we loved to read but couldn't create

We are nothing if not just poetry, we started out and so we must end,
We don't get to choose the meaning at times, just get to be real, we don't have to pretend,
My month draws close , my writing fades from times to time,
But this one is a gentle reminder, that I'm still here even if the "here" is no longer mine.