Not is So Easy

Not is so easy.
It arrives without invitation—
a whisper,
a shrug,
a soft place to collapse
when courage grows inconvenient.

You don’t have to earn Not.
It takes nothing from you.
Demands nothing.
Merely opens its arms
and lets you disappear
into the comfort
of unattempted dreams.

There is no resistance in Not.
No risk of failure.
No risk at all.

And I understand the appeal.
I do.

There are days
when even standing feels audacious.
When my breath catches
beneath the weight of effort,
and the thought of pushing forward
feels absurd.

But I was not made
to dissolve.

I was built to burn.
To stretch the limits of my own becoming.
To chase the kind of life
that lives only on the far side
of devotion.

Not may be easy—
but ease was never the goal.

Give me the path that rises.
Give me the days that blister.
Give me the ache in my legs
and the fire in my lungs
as I run
not because it’s easy—
but because it’s mine.

Because the life I want
has teeth and thunder in it.
Because the dream I carry
is stitched together
with sweat and holy stubbornness.

And so I run—
again,
still,
always.

Not trails behind me,
soft and tempting.
But I do not look back.

I have chosen this marathon
of meaning,
this uphill symphony of effort.
I will chase it
until the last beat of my body
gives way to silence—
and even then,
my soul will keep going.

Because I was never after comfort.
I was after everything.