There is No living in Predicting

It’s not 22

nor 24,

just in between. 

A gap year you could say.

I know I did not expect to enter this number the way that I am,

but yet 

the small wisdom I have obtained so far is quick now to wash over that old thought. 

Because there is no living in predicting.

There is no living in predicting.

^{There is}

^{no living}

ⁱⁿ

^{predicting…}

Predicting what will come of tomorrow,

what will be awaiting me in a month’s time-

how I will feel in 89 days-

if the sun will shine on the 11th Sunday of the year-

when the rain will pour on a day I make plans to see the sunrise-

who will stay or leave my life or who I choose to keep and let go of.

There is no living in predicting.

I won’t be perfect, I sing this song of words, but it is not to say thoughts will creep in.

That’s the truth.

But I can try, there is no harm in that.

The truth:

I have no idea what I’ll do-

I have no idea where I’ll live-

I have no idea what I’ll cook for dinner in a week- 

I have no idea if I’ll hate or love myself in that dress in 5 months-

I have no idea if I’ll go to the concert I have in the back of my mind-

I have no idea if I’ll cross that thing of my bucket list- 

I have no idea how many times I’ll listen to that song this year-

I have no idea how many times I’ll think of that dreadful moment-

I have no idea how many times I’ll cry or laugh- 

I have no idea how many times I’ll embarrass myself- 

but that’s the point. 

There is no living in predicting.

So, this is the most pleasing way to enter this year of life. 

I am done planning it,

it never goes the way you’ll want it to anyway.  

But I am hoping that when I walk,

my left foot is numb from intuition of the moment 

&

my right foot is heavy with faith in myself…

The path I choose to walk in the morning may not be the one I take in the evening.

I’ll take the first step-

Cheers to not predicting 23.

It really isn’t all so serious- is it? 

-B x