Hard to get it right

I think too much.
I am not thinking enough.

I need to be spantaneous.
Or should I organize my truckload of thoughts before starting?

I don't want a bunch of gibberish,
but I am not ready to write an epic.

I have too many perspectives, voices, ideas, and feelings,
and the clock is ticking.

My drafts are cramming my hard drive,
my frustrations are sky high.

Oh my beloved Peru, Peru, Peru...
Sigh.

A Fish without Border

I swore in as a U.S. citizen this morning, pledging allegiance to the land of the star-spangled banner. I am supposed to bear arms and defend this soil if called upon, even though I can't set up my converter box and antenna to watch TV.

My new passport defines me as a subject of the land of Bald Eagles, even though my blood ties me to a mythical Dragon in the east. My soul is united with that of the Feline, and spiritually I reside in the Andes, where I once supposedly almost became a high priest before a tragedy happened.

I also saw myself living once upon a time in Germany, heading a hospital, savings many lives before dying of respiratory complications. That life preceded my role as a military strategist in France who probably helped kill many innocent souls.

My passport may define my citizenship, but my existence is fluid. I am a fish without border.