pulses in my heart alone
stirs my spirit
steels my resolve
drives me on into the fray
“to thine own self”
resonates the chambers of my soul
sweet as the song of angels
if one is not the author
or thorough editor
of the life one lives
it is plagiarized
its essence forged
my pen scribes my chronicle
until I apply my hand
the slate is blank
do not attempt to chart my course
I search my own horizon
outside the press of others
do not seek me on the surface
I break deep
below the chaos
do not summon me to your queue
I stand in line for no one
you are not my piper
do not tell me your truth
never will it be my canon
do not try to name me
I will never be yours
do not try to contain me
I live far beyond
as have I always
and ever will
life is fragile
it will be mine
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry Pantry at: Poets & Storytellers