Dear Sweet Oblivion

I love you-
you offer comfort,
a fleeting kind of happiness.
Because if I don't know
better,
I don't have to do better.

And knowing better it's heavy
It means work, constant self-evaluation,
constant introspection.
It means facing parts of me
that call for healing,
the wounds that demand attention.

Dear sweet oblivion,
I love you,
but I cannot stay
I know better now  
and growth is calling my
name

Even when I resist,
some part of me leans
forward,
hungry to know more
to want more
to be more.

You are my solace,
my momentary peace.
But I was made for the climb.