Time

a (late/sleepy) Saturday morning poem

there is a half empty feeling,
a not-quite, but, still,
hollow well.

a not-so-good, not-so-bad
way around 
the round-about

way we may
heal.

in time 
that isn't linear.
isn't structural.
that isn't flowered and peppered 
in moments of euphoric clarity.

bliss does not come for the thoughtful.
clarity does not come for the thoughtless.

one makes their choices. 
and even the right ones
feel half-full, only half-right
second-guessing your point in the middle 
of a fight. 

only makes it worth it
to see yourself 
on the other side.