Remembering the Sun and Its Shadows
Something I wrote about past mistakes, the burden of memory, and an epiphany brought about by good company.
Remember when I was young? I rather not. The sins from then still stain the once ivory light I shine. Bright, unyielding naivete colored those movements. Wherever I went, my shadows inflicted pain, undeservingly— I am not asking for contrition, Father. I am unworthy, but I fetch a good price in the market. The one online where we're always shouting. Listening to this plague of intrusive broadcasts is the penance already. I can leave it? Where else am I to shill? I didn't have to back then, and yet I did. The retrospect churns my insides. It hits me in the soft, fleshy mass of conscience I apparently had. I've been had. Yes, I know I'm loved, but not by Him. Them, yes. They're nice—real even. Who am I to deny charity. The gift horse's mouth? Bliss ceases where knowing begins. I rather not advertise? I ain't selling a thing. I don't yell in Divisoria. I've only been there once. It's not a transaction? Thank God. I should thank them for that. I owe them. They deserve better. Although, I am better. Looking back, The shadows cast by my once ivory light in the dark allegorical cave were only for my entertainment. I looked back when the momentum was forward. There is no Icarus. I choose to be under the sun, even if it burns. I am not alone, even if sometimes I am. Now, especially, there are no longer undeserved shadows.