I kick my can,
But I always catch up.

I pick up my can,
I empty it and I kick my can,
But I always catch up.

I pick up my can,
I fill it and I kick my can,
But I always catch up.

I kick my can into tomorrow,
But I always catch up today.

I kick my can, it’s dented now,
But I always catch up, somehow.

I kick my can in endless loops,
But I always catch up, in swoops.

I kick my can, my legs grow weary,
But I always catch up, theory and query.

I kick my can towards the stars,
But I always catch up, near and far.

I kick my can through seasons’ change,
But I always catch up, time’s range.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.