the light between the cables
Not when you're in the thick of it, fighting one embarrassingly ordinary
battle after another. Not when your gaze trembles at each obstacle, real or imagined,
like those hurdles on the high school track which, when you had legs for it, weren't scary
at all but beckoned you to leap. And not when records of old failures spin your mind
into a dizzy carnival, turning you timid, too shaken to look. But it's there, nonetheless,
waiting to be seized, a window to a view sometimes so vague, you'd mistake it for mirage.
It may never get any clearer than this. There will always be a reason to fixate on the mess
of wires instead, spend your remaining minutes on the futility of disentangling. So close
your eyes if you have to. Let the color reassemble the way it first intended, pixel by pixel,
in the tiny miracle of becoming. The whole sky lives there. It always will.