Take the key. Unlock the door. Whom is it that you cry for? In this ready eve, among these autumn leaves, is there a way with happiness and peace you could perceive?
I am nothing but a shadow in the night. Perhaps someday I will shine bright. But for now I will enter the darkness without a fight.
Still, as I exit the door, I hear your voice once more. Now I understand. It is me that you cry for.
In the flower dust of my heart, it shall take a part in the history of everything from which I would once depart. I take the dust as the essence of me, the essence of what is to be.
In lackluster days and dull sunny rays, I am filled with joy in my ways. Seeing through a lens of truth, I forever protect my youth.
And in these times that I may find mine, I will eternally know that they will be filled with knowing that is fine.
For the flower dust within me that creates me as I am, it will forever be everything that I am.
Nothing is as it seems. Something sinister, time seems, but these thoughts just stream into my consciousness, throwing me for a loop.
I’ve struggled for eleven years, and began to believe that I would never reach what was at the top of that mountain. The one I desperately clawed my way up, searching in vain to find my name scribbled with the rest.
But I never did.
However, things have changed and I’m seeing wild imagination that was once tame.
With windy days and air conditioning turned up high, I dare to believe that maybe I could fly. Maybe, after all of this time, the turn to shine is mine. Because of these words I write, deep into the night. I hope that I get them right because I don’t ever want to give up this sight.
Fickle bones and small throwing stones; I hoped that I could be among those on the throne. The throne of the success that I pleaded so desperately for, for people around the world to hear these words built up at my core. And now my eyes deceive me.
For my name written now; after eleven years I am finally here for sure.
Thinking myself to burnt out, the words no longer coming to my mind. I am not burnt out, but simply having to mine for the words that line my very thoughts. I never thought I would be filled with infinite possibilities; but with disabilities.
Nothing can stop me from dancing to the renegade’s song. On my own I am strong. I make my own path, take part in my own life. Making passageways through the labyrinths that are mine. Mine and mine only. To me, they are holy.
I love who I am for once, and I will never give up this chance to do so. To my own self-love, I will never say no.