sunsets

the closing sentiment:

I’ve moved on.

I’m not the person I was yesterday,

nor the one I was 12 months ago, 

and that is the goal. 

Morning doesn’t control, define me. In fact, it knows nothing about me. It couldn’t recognize the room I wake up in, even if it wanted to, because home is no longer there. Every rigid corner is different, and maybe the wind has shifted some things. It doesn’t know the people I may speak to or how my hair might look. Maybe I have new friends, or will make them. Maybe I’ll ace my quiz, but morning will never know. Maybe that’s the goal: to preoccupy its mind, because what else would I do? After all, I am not at all who it anticipates me to be. It’ll spend its time decoding and reanalyzing. 

I am no longer the sun,

or maybe I am.

but it would never know.

one calls me yang.

but it would never know that either.

that’s reassurance.

My soul is different. It has transcended, transformed into something else. 

I am lightness – something similar, but something it will never know. 

after all, 

there were Sparks. 

they stuck with me.

and I still love sunsets.