Nothing is Random (Guest Post 2)

First, I would like to say thank you to Madhulika for inviting me to do this guest post and congratulate her as well on achieving the 100 followers. That is quite the milestone. I did not even want to start blogging, but at the encouragement of a friend, I did. If you look at my numbers now you probably would not believe it, but after nine months of blogging I had 35 followers. It was not until well into my second year of blogging when it really caught on and I figured some things out.
Mostly my early pieces are stories or tidbits of life but then a year and a half into my blog a commentor challenged me to write poetry. I had not written poetry since college, but tried my hand at it. Two years later, I have been published, featured in magazines, won the Twitter Art award in New York, performed pieces on stage, co-created several successful online poetry venues, the current one being dVerse Poets Pub.

Life can be funny like that, twisting and turning in directions you never saw coming. Not only is this true in my blogging world, but it holds true in my every day walk around life as well. I am nowhere near where I thought I would be at 38, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. Everything that I have gone through, every high and every adversity has helped mold who I am today. Through it all I do hold onto a truth and that is "Nothing is random," everything happens for a purpose.

I chose a poem to share with you that I wrote almost eighteen months ago. It is a favorite of mine that I often go back to and reread for a little encouragement of my own. I hope you enjoy and congrats once again Madhulika.

Girl On The 7:15 Train

across the body packed aisle

of the 7:15 train,

unbelievably, our eyes meet

and i read a poem,

in their endless green.

i would write it for you

but then it would be

open for interpretation,

twisting what makes them

truly spectacular, into dross.

that's what we do

with poems &

other beautiful things,

deconstruct them until

all that's left is old

shoe boxes full of

miscellaneous parts

and no way to put them

back together again.

doors swish open with a hiss

of compressed air & we

exit, going our separate ways,

me to work, you

snuggled tight to your

mother's shoulder &

i twiddle my fingers,

deciding to keep your eyes,

an unfathomable green,

only for me.

- Brian Miller

P.S. Thanks a lot Brian... I totally loved your effort to write this post for me.... Much love :)