There was always something weighing me down
much more prominently than gravity. It sat on my shoulders
as if it were a king finally gracing his throne, and pushed downwards
on my temples in some attempt of keeping me grounded.

But I began to believe in this burden -
looked towards it as guidance, when all along
I had been walking down a path of blotchy grass and stone
that shouldn't have been trudged along in the first place.

I looked for the answers underneath the soil
and tried to piece my puzzles with left over morning dew,
but the soil just fell through my fingers
and the dew had disappeared before brunch.

The weight was my blanket, my sturdy bridge, my fireplace
- it was protective, sempiternal and warm -
but it was also transparent, rigid, and uncomfortable
- safe, but entirely manifested hesitance -

All this time, I believed that the weight was right;
the burden was compressing me to be simpler and lighter.
But today, I chose the path leading to a faulty tightrope across the way
and I ended up flying instead of falling; free rather than frivolous.

gd