Bukowski was right
With good fortune
Comes stagnation
I always thought
When fortunes comes
Knocking on my doorstep
I would open the door
Greet her as a friend
And invite her in
Into my life
Into my heart
For a long time to come
But now I find myself
Standing on the otherside
Of that door
I hear her knocking
Calling out for me
But I just stand there
Staring at the thin wall
Between me and my dreams
I pick my head up
To stare at the door
I am no longer sure
That what is on the otherside
Is what I want
She calls and beckons
Asking for an answer
But I just turn
And walk the other way
Leaving fortune to it’s own ends
Mine hasn’t come yet
I am not ready
To open that door
Maybe someday
When I become tired
Of the suffering of the world
But I know
This is were I belong
With a pen in my hand
And a burden on my shoulders
I walk away
From destiny on my doorstep
Waiting on the otherside
No I am not
Abandoning my dreams
Not at all
I have to chase them
If I don’t now
I never will
And what good
Is an unearned prize
The door remains
As it always was
Leaving destiny
On one side
And me on the
otherside