a poem on purpose

(written by hand on plane, transcribed with a cacophony of frog songs all around me)

i am often now looking into beauty
wherever i am
seeing a falling down around me of cages, perhaps
some bar, some steel, something thought to hold me
or i thought it up to hold myself
through the awakening

when it is a chaos inside it helps to say
i am this
(tired) {known}
and not that
(desired) {unknown}

but in all the space i found a chaos without
a world, a familiar
an unreasonable joy
an unrealistic life
and i have decided to live it

because i don’t remember anymore when the heartbreak started
that emptiness larger than any single slight or withholding or person
but i do know this world will keep it burning and aching
twisting you and i away from any purpose
filling up the sight

i could, and i have, but
i don’t think i was put here to see the world and weep

i have full hands,
my work is to create more beauty
tho…there is enough and so much
so then, to show it, to let it be, and let it out
to conduit that love which is also always present
in this same plane, in this same little world
to notice the ways it is good to be of my species
on my planet
in this age
to remember how to love
all through these forgetting times