Sometimes I come to terms
With all the pieces.
I fit them together,
Well enough,
In agreement,
with the tag ‘reality’.
But it is a drug,
That gives me the excuse,
To miss the real,
The truth that I’ve moved
So far into the shadow
Of daily trials,
That light is just an edge,
A sliver, dim and easily unnoticed.
But when I draw near to it,
I see,
The brightness piercing,
Blinding to all the false hopes,
The empty compromises I call okay.
So I crawl,
On my knees,
Like a desert traveler,
Coming upon a trickle of water,
Without concern with how I look,
Because I have found,
what I didn’t know,
I lost.

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