The Fairest Sun

I know.

My room is generally a mess and I’ve gotten better but still procrastinate some. 

“Haste makes waste” is a thing and I’ve wasted more everything than I currently possess.

My laziness is wasteful too.

In a haste to flush the day and meld with Netflix. And calories.

But I am also far from passionless. 

Like, hysterically so.

I care and I notice and I worry.

I fret about all I’ve wasted in a haste to fill identities rendered false by clarity.

It’s ok.

All of it.

The unchangeable past has to be to allow for possibility.

Wind on face.


Shells as cells left in wakes of awakening. 

Haste swapped for focused urgency.

The difference between the two,

haste and urgency,

is confidence. 


I know.

3 thoughts on “The Fairest Sun

  1. I love this line: “Shells as cells left in wakes of awakening.” Your poem had me reading it over and over. It is layered with craft and word choice and meaning. It flips and flops perspective. I loved it.


  2. This is a great Poem Eddie! I can relate to the sense of procrastination, although as I get older some of it less of procrastination as it is prioritizing in other ways. 🙂


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