Clawing to release myself from the norm
Yet mayhaps the norm is the skin that holds life together
At least once in awhile.
I will not be comfortable in this skin
I will not succumb to the average lull
Yet I will not be torn apart by prideful fingertips
Yours or mine.
I once believed wanderlust to be diamonds
And dreams to be the ink staining my hands
But you cannot drink a diamond and then pour it on a page
And you cannot run dry ink through your fingertips
A golden chalice for each hand
Pour out the glistening wanderlust to your left
Pour out your dreams to your right
Invite others to witness as they pool at your feet
Cup your hands and share
Flicking your generous fingertips at your newfound friends
When they pass by, unassuming, then repeat
Yours and mine.