The Eve Before Thirty Three

On the eve of thirty three,
I wandered the grounds of Tuol Sleng,
Big thoughts of what tomorrow can bring,
Neurotic stabbings of emotion of yesterday,
And I remain a vessel for all of it to come and go.

On the eve of thirty three,
I pay tribute to the art of letting go.
I became the master, of taking
All that held meaning to me
And to abandon my attachments.

“What’s meant to be mine will meet me on the other side.” I conclude.
“Will it though…..?”
I don’t fucking know.

On the eve of thirty three,
I think back to 365 days ago,
A birthday spent with my Mom by my side,
Grief pouring through my blackened eyes,
Oh tender heart, it never quite recovered.

On the eve of thirty three,
I am ready to leave behind
The situations that make me small,
The people who have a disdain for the truth,
The fears that lay lodged blocking my heart
And the hand outstretched, pushing them away.

Thirty two was a sucker punch to the stomach.
Thirty two was the ultimate submission.
Thirty two was a vivid taking back of power,
Thirty two was the workaholic learning to relax.

Thirty two was the year I let go.

What does thirty three entail?
More knowledge, more scholarly pursuits.
More mastery of the art of subtle relaxation.
More time spent with the artists + musicians.
More hiding behind the lens of my Canon. My love.
More time with the people who feel like home.

I might be a bit out of line, For making such a bold stance
But being left in limbo can make you think crazy thoughts –
I think 33 is the year
The good guys overcome.
The truthful are rewarded.
The creative fiercely blossom.
The drifters find their home,
And the broken lead into moksha.