I've never been very good at letting go, but then again that’s why I’m
so good at keeping things together.
I suppose I’ve lost sight of that for some time now, and the
longer I’m caught in this grasp, the more I start to wonder if it’s finally
time to loosen my grip, to give up, to finally break a promise I never thought
I would break. I've become like those
foolish old men I used to admonish for their stubborn ways, lost, chasing a
world dead and gone long before they are.
Some are lucky and they find their time in the world, their place in the
mix of it all, but so many more are standing on the shores of time waiting for
the impossible to return. Like good
patron saints their dedication is unquestionable as they stare into the void of
what used to be and wait for death to take them away from this world they can’t
cope with. Unlike them it’s not too late
for me to find a new way, to cut these losses and move on without the burden of
what will never be. But the only way is
forward, and maybe the only hope, is to let go and never look back.
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