Who were you, duckling? You had such dreams. Not dreams to you though -- possibilities. Say your prayers, wish upon a star, why not? Why not you? Ah, if only you had known how to pray. If only distant stars had revealed themselves as Gods.
(Mirror, mirror, what are you saying? That this -- this is set in stone? Not the lesson for which one prepared. Not what one signed on for, surely.)
Delight in it, you're advised. Once chosen, behind door number three, just live with it. What matter which way to turn? Any direction, it all works.
But no. You wanted what you wanted. Or didn't want. Makes no difference.
How hard it is, to feel your inconsequential pain. Now, love -- love would open unto you. Love would enfold you, smooth your scraggly feathers, caress you, croon to you, rock you. Love would declare your swanning loveliness, would it not? Would it ... Not?
Feel it, feel it, they say. Don't run away. Let it come, let it go, then -- then! -- you will fly. Free. Beautiful.
Or not -- your choice, really. Except you can't revert. You can't project.
You are here.
No comments:
Post a Comment