On Being

“It must be such a burden to bear”

“No”

How can this be?

A secret very few know-

My variable angels have no weight

It’s lessons and listening as of late

And I myself sometimes feel to float

Upon the daylight or frozen moat

My voice is a whisper then

And my very being

Do I pretend?

My limb or perhaps an invisible wing

That is- It’s invariably light

But still witness to everything

It is then that-

I can only be seen in the bright rays of the sun

Where chirping, faint barking and awakened rivers run

Not indoors where oxygen is tight

Although I still do fear the black opaque night

Often I’m visited in dreams

It’s either they or I who first arrive

Maybe unaware of the plot

But the background is just so Alive

Feeling a sense of loss

Being as the only one-

But nevertheless-

I’m here to get things done

Is it a burden?

I say “No”

For maybe she’s meant to share

(This lighthearted Being)

Both what she Saw and

What she is now Seeing.

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