Time to turn the page

I stare at the words for a very long time. It seems that I have been looking at them forever. The writing is in my hand. I recognize the turn of phrase, every nuance in the lines. I see the stanzas, wrinkled and torn, that showed the pain. I see the spots dripped with tears of joy over what was being expressed. This represents my world, the way I saw it. The way I have seen it for some time. But, it was just my vision. The meaning shared with no one. The expression falling short. It holds me now. I can't seem to take my eyes away.

This represents months of work. But, then again, it represents so much more. It expresses a release of so much that held me back. So much that kept me from becoming who I could be. What is shared here is the begining of starting over again. It shows the opening of a heart.

Light is fading around me. The words are getting harder and harder to see. I know that it's time to move past this. Not to close the book, but to only turn the page. To move to the next chapter. As hard as that seems to be, I know in my heart for the good of all involved, it's what's needed. And yet, hesitation continues.

Taking a deep breath, I muster up the courage to try to find the next focus. The next muse in this neverending gathering of my thoughts, fears, joys, loves, and all the rest that make up who I am. It's time to see the truth. And realize there isn't a damn thing I can do to change it. I can't write another ending. I can't muster up the words to change the outcome.

So, wetting my finger and thumb, I reach for the corner of the page. I begin to start the process of letting go.

Maybe, just for another moment, I will hold onto the joy of all this. And remember never to forget. Just for another moment, before I turn the page.