The Light Above

The light above shines brightly through the bare trees. Stay atop the hill, or slouch toward another living soul; but I know you, still.

The fabrications, the bravado, the narcissism, all.

The dishonest dance mocks me now.

Yet today I know
Present moment, only moment

When will I ever let go?

Don't you know?

What would I do to bring forth my own life, blessed hope, and good fortune? What could I accomplish if I could accept myself?

Where would that lead, if I could look in the mirror and see the world in my reflection? Where would I be then, if not in sorrow?

How would I leave the past behind, as you say I have not moved beyond it? How can you understand the depth of loss and loneliness if you refuse to ever look at it or recognize it in your own soul?

When would I have been enough for you to stay, if ever? When would you have told me, if not before the music played on the hill, or the birthday beckoned, or the other woman was admitted for show?

Don't you know?