It’s those middle days that get you.
The same old step.
The worn path.
The memorized passage
you no longer bother to read.
You stop looking for sunsets.
Stop appreciating sunrises.
The stars twinkle, but you don’t look up.
Your heart forgets its longing dream
and settles into the same steady beat.
My dearest wish, for you
is glorious upheaval.
that leads you into a new pattern.
Your eyes awakened to the beauty
You forgot how to see.