318/365

falling into the well of the
bookshelf again hoping
to find a bit of inspiration
before landing with a thud
at the bottom empty handed,
i thumb the spines, plucking
a random buddhist title
gathering dust and growing mold
on the engaged spiritual life.
apparently this type of growth
does not blossom by simply living.
passing decades and satchels of pain
alone are not remedies for understanding
the simplest truths. the pink highlighted
passages exclaimed with marks
taunting me with cruel reminders:
you gotta do the work in the well-
don’t ask what the world needs.
ask yourself what makes you come alive,
and go do that, because what the world needs
is people who have come alive.

putting the book back on the shelf
its work done, i’m left thinking:
when will i finally learn to listen?