Perhaps the greatest discovery is that poetry does not always need to be created.
Sometimes it only needs to be noticed.
It is there in the first light entering a room.
In an old photograph.
In the sound of someone you love laughing.
In the silence after they leave.
In the road you have travelled.
In the person you once were.
In the person you are becoming.
It is in the questions without answers.
In the answers that arrive too late.
In the things we lose.
In the things we learn.
In the moments we wish would last forever.
And in the moments we are grateful finally came to an end.
Life is not always beautiful.
Life is not always understandable.
But perhaps that is precisely what makes it poetic.
