So I wrote a poem about it. It's what I do. I know, I'm a nerd and proud of it...
i don’t walk the roads anymore,
make my own paths through
those gardens still standing.
now, knowing each ray of light
beaming through the leaves is
its own course, the world is full of
whispers from paths not taken.
and here at the end of my twenty-third
year, i wonder if i’ve lived enough –
not long enough to call what i’ve lived
life, but enough to find the words
for what makes it so without relying
on letters i’ve choked on. and i’ve
learned what to unlearn, like that rule
against sentences beginning with and
because there are always words before
the ones i’m brave enough to say.
i’ve been stumbling along until now
but the rest is quite clear –
twenty-four hours in a day
twenty-five cents in a quarter
and twenty-six letters in the alphabet
i figure from here on
i live like i’ve got one day
to turn these words
to bury them in your heart like treasure
you can find on your way down any path.
so the next time someone asks if i’ve lived
enough, i’ll point to all your beating hearts
and count your years with mine.