Do you ever just sit and feel?

I don’t mean just feel,

I mean really feel.


Feel the air around you,

Feel the blood moving in your veins,

Feel the clothes on your skin.


Then go further;

Feel what it is to be alive,

What it is to exist.


Does it feel like a burden?

Does it feel like a joy?

Does it feel like it did before?


Of course not.

Existence is dynamic

After all.


I wrote this poem by sitting on the couch trying to think of a poem to write; coming up with nothing, I started reflecting on what I was feeling, and I came to feel my existence (I swear, no drugs were involved). It’s an uncomfortable experience, but one worth having. As usual, I hope y’all enjoy!