A Quest

Planning a quest for me.
It starts here, at this desk,
where my fingers tap keys.
A quest unlike most games,
where you seek a person,
an item, a theme.
No, my quest is myself.

First, I’ll dismantle me.
Rearrange and step back,
to see it all — good or bad,
murky or clear.

Those warped and dented pieces
scattered amongst the whole —
don’t keep any,
they just don’t fit anymore —
Long ago, quick fixes that worked once,
but now, they’ve pierced me through,
preventing growth.

Toss them out.
But what to replace?

Dig deep into softy, crumbling soil;
my fingernails scrap at some clay.
slowly, gently, mold a new piece.
One that’s healthy and open,
one that holds no walls
no defenses.
Simply a shard of trust and hope
to cement together what’s left.

One by one,
I’ll dismantle myself,
One by one,
I’ll rebuild.

All of my sour memories —
all of the pain,
fear, bad habits
that throttle my growth —

Throw them into a fire,
reforge into new materials,
recycling what I can,
and what I can’t —
I’ll just start anew.

One piece at a time.

Categorized as Author Tagged

By Aibird

Open the door, step inside. Here you find a forest, teeming with animals and birds, which sweeps up the sides of snow-capped mountains. Here in the small pocket of beauty, one finds the essence of my soul. A writer at heart, I delve deep into the finer details of humanity's spirit, and seek to share with others what gems I uncover. I find life exciting and full of interesting surprises, and despite the great pain that often confronts me, I persevere with the joy in my heart still bubbling, and the light of my soul still aflame. There is a time and a place to introspect one's self, but often enough it is best to not look back in regret, but leap forward in the present toward the achievement of one's deepest dreams. I am a wanderer. An explorer. One place cannot contain me for long, but to my friends and family, I remain loyal, for love is not bound by time nor place. Once cultivated and nourished continuously, it binds people together on a journey through the unknown reaches of life.


  1. Wow, this is really beautiful. The language isn’t gooey or sentimental or weepy, but strong and direct. Love it. (Theme sounds just like the self-searching poetry I wrote shortly after college. It’s a hard journey, but poetry is a fabulous way to explore it.)

    I’m not sure how I missed the poem you posted at LF, either. Comments got rather heated, I see. Yikes. It looks like we have a know-it-all lurking on the forums. Don’t you just love that kind of commenting? Sheesh.


    1. Thank you! Spent two days on the poem, trying to craft it just right.

      I hope my responses to the know-it-all was appropriate. It just seemed strange and disrespectful to me to assume writers on a writing forum didn’t know their craft or the history of their craft. Seems better to ask what they know then try to guess.


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