Frustrated Writer

I need big new dreams
to tell me what to do next.
The best ones came true.

Were they so simple?
Yes and no. Some were unknown.
Recognized in time.

I would not see them
if I'd searched, desperate, goals.
It doesn't work that way.

Memories and now
fill my mind as fantasy.
Life is sweet in there.

Is my life perfect?
No. There is dark history.
But I don't live there.

I forgive. Forget.
I am still. I find my peace.
(That is, on good days.)

I live here. Right now.
Do I need big new dreams then?
Maybe. But stay here now.

Restless wandering.
Achieve. How much should I want?
And when should I stop?

In my youth I asked.
There's no answer. Just the source.
Saying: "Be still. Be."

I'm right on the line.
Not young. Not old. Much to do.
All expectations.

Doing's not virtue.
Action can be destruction.
Instead: Be. A big dream.

Find my peace, I say.
Others may demand, expect. No.
Instead: Be. A big dream.

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Frustrated Writer says: Read Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar today to someone you love -- and help make the record for the largest shared reading experience! Details and how to enter your participation here: http://www.readfortherecord.org