I don’t know what it is.

It’s not Death. I know that’s always there at the end of the line, waiting. But that’s not what I’m feeling.

It’s not the satisfaction of completion. I’m not finished yet.

Maybe it’s my choice and realization of the simple word “love.” But that’s always there too. I found that word long ago and never let go.

It’s something else. The agitation of nerves that signify excitement, anticipation. But what?

I think maybe it’s the word “enough.”

Now that my book is finally out and available, with more almost ready, my volume of Seminar Poems, my young adult sword and sorcery novel Quest, I’m beginning to see a footprint. But I have more to say, more to write about, so it’s not yet “enough” when I will maybe possibly have finally nothing more to say, though I doubt that day will ever come before the last.

It can’t just be the world. Events are gathering like thunder clouds for a coming storm, and we’re battening down the hatches. That’s anxiety, but I’m feeling something else, something better, a vision of the future as I choose to see it.

Maybe it’s like the puzzle we put together on the dining room table, the picture on the box to guide us, to show what it will look like. The puzzle is better than the picture on the box, more complete, shows the edges, tells us how it all fits together. Maybe it’s like the feeling you get when you fit in the last piece and the picture is complete.

Maybe it’s like that.