Raw-Dogging Reality

My second wind is coming.
The second wind on life, that is!

with Mingus fingers
helping to instigate me
musically since Joltober,
a passing freight train 
can't halt my progress.

tearing apart notions of healing,
every nebula is prologue to this moment.

this near future
has never felt better,
and I march forward
without circumstellar auspices,
trailblazing my own violescent path.

finding joy in movement,
things won't be the same after this. 

on this side or the next,
I become what was at one point
the unthinkable:
proving them all wrong with progress.

the jazz joins the joust,
and I am unprotected from conquering [my] life.