It was always going to be this way...
it was always going to be me
finding myself back where it all began...
it was always going to be me
returning to the same place I started -
like restarting the performance of a play...
it was always going to be
a long and eventful road that I took
before I found myself, once again,
doing what I do, what I always do,
filled with memories and inspiration,
and, as always, without anything
that might resemble a plan.

It was always going to be me,
with an open notebook in front of me,
with my silver pen in my hand,
still with a hopeful smile on my face,
writing, thinking,
remembering, recalling,
watching, observing, looking
and finding more than might meet
the eye of everyone else but me...
it was always going to be me
back writing my poetry,
within my own bubble of imagination,
as the world, the universe,
the reality of life on this planet
carries on regardless around me.

It was always going to be me;
it was always going to be
who it was when things were
how they used to be;
it was always going to be
unlike what I, or anyone,
would ever have expected -
because everything that turned out
the way that it did
seems to have conformed
to a pattern that was always meant to happen.

It was always going to be me
who would teach myself
that no matter how things
sometimes do change,
and how people sometimes
do take much-needed detours,
there is always a lesson to be learned
taught by time and by our own
inner shadow, like only they can.