One day she’ll just get it.
She will get up and grab it
as if it hadn’t always been hanging thousands of feet above her.
She’ll get that the distance between her and what she wanted was
a mirror image;
and the speck in the reflection above,
made up of millions of forgotten pulsing particles,
must act.
She must act
She must act
She must act.
For every piece of her hums,
restlessly pulling her upward
to meet a surface where
she is realized.
What if “it” was gotten all along?
Like subconsciously singing a distant song
Placed deep in the mind..though at your disposal
But far too deep to be disposed of
Lessons learned, though not asked to be taught
As hearts are caged and not asking to be caught
What is really important in the grand scheme of things?
Through the clouds do you try to see the beams?
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