Unfinished


I am not a mountain.
Mountains know exactly
where they belong.
I am more like a road
still being built,
a map with destinations yet to hold
a story with ink still drying 
People ask, "What are you becoming?"
As if becoming
is a single line
As if a river says sorry
for every bend 
I have changed my dreams
Changed my plans
Changed my name
inside my own mind
a thousand times
Yet somehow
the clouds dont come crashing down
Perhaps the goal
was never to arrive
Perhaps the point
was simply
to keep running 
toward the rainbows ege 
Knowing ill never reach the end
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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