It took a flash brighter than lightning on a starless night for me to see. If not for the scream of a handful of words, I might still be blind. I won’t admit to the tears, because I’m too stubborn to let them fall. I won’t admit to the twist in my stomach, because I’m too thick skinned to let it bubble past the surface. I won’t admit defeat, because I don’t really know the meaning. Instead, I’ll let them scrub the insides clean.
~ ~ ~
Will you know when your paradigm shifts? Will anyone be there to care? I ask these questions often, and then I wonder if they matter. Mine shifted tonight and when I saw the stars again, my three were right where I left them. The comfort of the familiar steadied me. I let the gathered expectations of the last nine months blow away. They piled up when I wasn’t looking, but then I guess we miss the dust bunnies until we’re stepping on them.
Here’s the hardest part of revelation: when it finally happens, no one may be there to share it and no matter how loud you scream no one will hear it.
Instead, I’ll leave it here. Though you won’t understand every word you’ll feel it with me; the excitement that borderlines mania, the fear that borderlines terror, the hope that borderlines faith. When the sharp breath hits like that wall you didn’t see coming, you’ll know. You’ll see it’s all part of who I was, who I am, and who I hope to be. Seek me out to hear the smile in my voice or walk by with a quick uneasy glance; either way I’ll be here brushing keys and building dreams in cloud shaped castles.