Poems On Finding Yourself Novels & Stories

She just looked at it for a moment — two lines, plain and unadorned, the kind of thing that looked like nothing and was something — and then she put her phone face up on the cushion beside her, which was new, which meant she wasn't looking at it anymore. Which was, she thought, its own kind of answer. She fell asleep on the couch that night with the light still on, the poetry book open in her lap at a page she hadn't meant to open to, a Lucille Clifton poem about won't and will and the long walk back to yourself. She didn't read it. But she felt it there, the open page, the words pointing at something she was moving toward, whether she'd decided to or not. In the morning, Gerald had a fourth

"I wrote: I understand what I have and I am not adequate to describing it, but I will spend my life being adequate to deserving it." The bond between us was settled and deep and entirely itself, and the gathering below was warm with fire and voices and the long light of spring, and I thought: this is what it means to be the ground. Not to be the thing that shines, but to be the thing that holds whatever shines. I had spent my whole life not knowing I was this. I was this. I had always been this. The rune had only delayed the knowing.

A true north, if you will, allowing me to find my way out of whatever situation I couldn't find the answer to. Maybe that is the answer. This laptop, Anthony, this whole situation – it's my wakeup call to be a better person. It's my defining moment to learn to believe in myself. My one shot that I don't want to blow. This right here is the true north I've been searching for this whole time. * * *

If you explore the inner you, you find that peace that no violence on your way can ever stand, as if it never even stood. Explore self beyond measure. Discover the self each day as new, just like dew. The joy of resemblance is less than the peace of being you. You create you, you decide on you. That’s the you, just you. Who can enable the things? Who can grow the crops on fields? No one else can take the place you have for you.

Peach mumbled before closing his eyes, followed by the tears freely trickling down his cheeks. . . . "Peach...Peach...Peach," a mysterious voice from nowhere called him. Peach opened his eyes and wandered the surroundings. "Who are you?" and "Where am I?" asked Peach, his eyes roaming the vast surface looking for the owner of the mysterious voice. "You don't have to know who I am; I heard your heart's greatest desire and prayers. Do you truly want to be with him again?" asked the mysterious voice echoing from the vastness of nowhere.

Adrian rubbed his temples, caught between their words, his chest heavy. “I don’t even know who I am right now,” he admitted quietly. “I thought I had everything figured out. But now… now I don’t know where home is anymore.” The table went quiet again. Jakes sighed deeply, placing a hand briefly on Adrian’s arm. “Then maybe finding that, finding yourself should be the first step.” Leonard smirked, downing the rest of his drink.

I could be a piece of shit, a really fucking awful person who'd make you think I was the Devil reincarnate but I would have never left her without any form of goodbye. I placed the duffle bag carefully onto the bed and then searched every compartment for my journal. My journal was the only materialistic item I had ever cared about. Poetry was my way of expressing the emotions I didn't understand. The first page of my journal was what meant the most. It was why I needed to find it. I finally found what I had been looking for right at the bottom of the bag, protectively wrapped in an off-cut piece of leather. The royal purple leather-clad book was thick and held multiple poems within its hardc