Page title

I recently finished a poem that's been tugging at me for a while now. I thought I would share it here. It's about the journey, and being lost, again and again, until realizing that there's no "way", and deciding to surrender intentionally.

Lost On Purpose

Let me feel the subtle slipping, soft as breath against a seam,

Where the self I thought was solid fades to something less extreme.

I have stood inside these moments, felt their quiet, pulling sway -

Every time I call it ending, something in me leans to stay.

Not as I was formed to hold it, not as I was taught to be,

But as something far more patient, loosening its need to see.

There’s a strange and tender absence where the edges used to start,

Like a question left unanswered pressing gently at the heart.

I have tried to name the feeling, tried to anchor, tried to bind,

Built a thousand careful structures just to steady what I’d find.

But they faltered - not in breaking, more like softening their claim,

As if form itself grew weary of pretending it was frame.

And it found me - every time - quiet, unannounced, and clear,

Not a force of devastation, but a presence drawing near.

Not removing, not unmaking, only asking me to see

What might happen if I loosened what I thought I had to be.

There’s a crossing in the silence, there’s a thinning of the thread,

Where the past becomes a language I have long since learned and read.

And I linger there, suspended, not in absence but in trust,

As the shape I wore so tightly turns to memory and dust.

Still I’m here - though something shifts me, still I’m here - though something’s gone,

Not diminished, not divided, but continuing as one

With the quiet, constant motion I once struggled to oppose,

Now a rhythm I surrender to, a current that I chose.

I have lost myself so often that the word has come undone,

For there’s something in the losing that returns me to the One -

Not a place and not a purpose, not a fixed or final form,

But a deeper kind of knowing I have carried long before.

So when once again it finds me - that familiar, sacred blur -

I don’t reach for old defining, I don’t ask it to defer.

I allow the gentle shifting, let the boundaries release,

And I follow where it takes me -

not to find it, but to cease

Into something vast and quiet, something patient, something true -

As the last of what I carried loosens softly into view.