Left hand or right hand?

Moving life like ebs and flows

Where did i come from I think I know

Where will I go only time will show

My left hand grips to the side of a bed that knows me,

a familiar old book with familiar dust

the coffee cup that my hand has stained, plastic and lacking lust

My right hand reaches for something I can not grab

My right hand reaches to flee

to feel new dirt in my toes and to smell wind forcing into my nose

The need to see more to get my fill, the need to tumble in a field of scree

But my right hand will see my left with a heavy heart

It will see and wish the left did not exist, because the thought of it there

because that would mean more than anything, freedom

Freedom that we work our whole lives towards

But what is freedom if there is nothing to be free, from?

An open sky is just a blue slate if there is nothing we are being chased by

or nothing we are chasing in the open sky

So I will pour this coffee into my new familiar stained plastic mug

sipping and deciding where will my day will take me

Giving up on a plan with a shrug

Not this because what if that?

But how bout a little time to sit and contemplate

The next steps of not my day but my life

Its pretty short for heavens sake

So do I grab it with my left hand or dart with my right?

So far, the non-dominant refuses to lose a fight.