It’s not too late to feel a little more alive

What amounts to a dream anymore?
A crude device; A veil on our eyes
A simple plan we’d be different from the rest
And never resign to a typical life

Common fears start to multiply
We realize we’re paralyzed
Where’d it go, All that precious time?
Did we even try to stem the tide?

Why should we waste it on
Buying into the same old lies?
The longer we wait around
The faster the years go by

It’s not too late
To feel a little more alive
Make an escape
Before we start to vaporize

(James Mercer)

Here is where I admit to the guilt of holding on to people and things in my past for far too long. What we burned a few days ago in the fire pit was well, in truth, only old papers that needed shredding. But it felt like something much bigger. It felt like some sort of final cleansing of the past…the parts that needed to go anyway. It was a ritual sacrifice of all the dead things we had been hanging onto and the smoke was like sage cleansing the air around us, and we walked away empty and clean and ready to begin this new chapter.

Rachael shared an E. E. Cummings poem with me a while back that was running through my head as I watched the flames do their work …

let it go-the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise-let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go-the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers-you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go-the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things-let all go
dear

so comes love

— steph