Doors.

I am on the edge. Ready, but not quite to choose. There are so many different options. Ive been here before, but Im here again and its different. I want to start over, I want to walk through, I want to walk out on the sea and see. My sight had gotten narrow a moment, but it can open up as I let go and push on. Still and considered a gypsy, I too must move on. The winds change, so quickly I can't keep up or tell if this is real or a dream. Maybe it's late and it IS time to dream. Im tired of my words coming out wrong, I dont want to put on a show. I dont want this to look perfect, and find out it wasnt what i ordered. I want to enrich my senses, enliven this root, let the words grow. Its time to evolve.
I'm trying something new, and seeing where this door leads.