Take with you the Mirror again, only to glance and glare at the sun indirectly through this handheld illusion. A constant battle to find the sun without a barrier – without a shield of some sort… To love, to endure, to nurture, to embellish, to look into the faded maroon glass and see…myself. Finally.
What do we do once we are ash? Tiny fibers of my being manipulate themselves to form a new. Scorched from the fire. A passion for life. To live. To Reform. To Burn again. This need to create by resurrection of oneself beyond comprehension of should and body aligned. This need that will not go unnoticed. un-wasted. For my ash will bloom from the Earth it has fallen to, only to feel the warmth of the fire once more…to fade into ash.
I told him of my sorrows, for the pain brought upon himself. I spoke a rhythmic sonnet, of lostness. He replied from Robert Frost, “It’s not until you are so lost that you find yourself”… as I look through words of those once lost…another comes to mind, “Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” -Henry David Thoreau
Staying true yourself is finding oneself.