By Claire Burianek

I suppose

that the value 

of this complicated artist’s life 

adds up to a sum 

of nothing more than 

a few prose scraps, 

some meaningless musings, 

and nothing more. 

If this is true, 

if this is all I have done 

or will ever do, 

perhaps I should find 

fulfillment in that 

small number 

of good work done. 

I have transformed 

from hesitantly tapping the brakes 

to stomping on the gas. 

To relying on newfound speed, 

and the thrill of it 

is greater than security 

could ever provide me. 

I may not have them anymore, 

but they were not for me. 

I know who is for me. 

And that is the most valuable discovery 

I could make. 

Yes, clouds gather, 

and one may not catch a glimpse 

of the glittering turquoise above 

for more than a day, 

but all clouds 

dissipate eventually. 

And all people 

find truth