After the Storm

I give you your freedom.

I want back myself.

I’m tired of running this into the ground.

Over-and-over I try to figure this out. I might drive me crazy if I don’t let this out.

Staring into eyes different only in time — Have we seen the same pain? Have we walked the same lines?

How do we pare down to only what’s essential?

I long to find the end again, past all the questions, past all the trivial.

I know there’s hope but… Let me try explain:

Oblivion.

Then I open my eyes — someone called.

I lie awake, still wrapped in the clothes of the grave.

I see only an aura, though, because no one moved the stone away.

Do I stay safe, hidden inside? I feel as though I’ll die if I don’t jump to see how far I can fly.

What if what feels crucial results in destruction?

I’ve looked at fear and welcomed the force, only to become the storm.

When we overcome our weakness do we lose the source driving us forward?

Spent, I find I don’t have the urge to sort through the wreckage, I want to leave it on the ground.

 

 

 

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