Abel

Often, I find myself
paralyzed mometarily
by the thought
that there is much left
in the world I have yet to do,
yet to try and make.


My heart seizes up for 
a quick beat to 
remind me, 
I am still too young.
But I am afraid I won't
get to everything.


There's too much music
to hear, too many books to read,
too many poems to write
and too much useless shit to
create.


Too many places to see,
too many people to meet,
too many nights to waste,
sleepless.


The world is too big for me
and these wild-eyed ambitions,
and my stomach tumbles into
thick knots, striking great big
melancholy chords.


Wanderlust, dammit.


I am too young to yet begin
these grand adventures in my head,
but I also am so crippled by the fear
I'll never make it to all the boxes 
to check on my to-do list for life.
And I only get one life
to cram all this stuff into,
and it's a challenge I am scared of.


I should be excited, but 
god, I am confused and terrified.


I want to see it all, listen to it all,
make it all and meet more beautiful 
talented folks on this planet.
Swim in all the seas and visit
every beautiful place.


I need to drive across the country
and see all the sights,
hug the redwood trees and 
cliff dive into the Pacific.


See India and Japan and allll the Mediterranean.


I am being swallowed by all I must do.
I feel so immobilized.
When will it start,
when will my life 
jump into the waiting abyss
to begin?


When will my paranoid fears
become reality and actuality,
and I will have stories to tell at last?


When will I meet the writers of the world 
again to spin our tales by campfires 
or in cafes?


When will a man look into my eyes
and say, "Please don't go"?


When will I get to the sea
and feel alright with 
my heart?


Too much to see,
so much to do and 
I feel much to young to begin,
yet to old not to have started yet.