Although perfection I continue to pursue,
I recognize the world of difference between,
For many nights I was frail,
Completely broken and without sight.
I’d hit rock bottom,
Succumbed to a meaningless existence,
No flicker of light in the distance,
But worse still, I’d thrown in the towel,
I lived on, neither with joy nor passion.
I lived because, at dawn my eyes would open,
Because my heart never failed to beat,
By default I was forced to live on,
Going about my affairs yet lacking in zeal,
Waiting for the heart to fail.
For the blood to eventually go cold,
For that dawn when the eyes would finally cease to open,
Simply carrying on, waiting to be no more.
There’s no telling when the light came on,
Melting away those pangs of helplessness,
The spirit was restored,
There is no telling when it all began.
One thing I know is certain,
It simmered from deep within me,
Slowly quietly at first, then boiling over.
Though the trials lingered on, the fear was gone,
The heavy baggage no longer resting upon my frail structure,
That familiar zeal for life, that swell of emotion,
Yearning to burst forth, begging for release.
And there was peace.
The old is gone.