Too far to see the death of dusk.
Too close
To feel the birth of dawn.
My heavier self knows itself
Far better
Than my lighter self.

Weight, in its multitudes,
Is one way of recognizing one's existence
Yet, in that burden,
So does the sorrow of its influence.
The weight of being,
The weight of loving,
Of regret,

Is both a realization and
A defining characteristic
Of one's self (if one is interested in such things)
Showing how true our wings,
Or lack thereof, are eternally clipped until
God decides whether we deserve them
                                                                     or not.