It commenced not in the ordinary,
No, it carried a profound yearning,
A yearning to be cherished, not reviled,
To be esteemed, not deemed average,
To experience something, not nothing.
Gradually, it evolved beyond that,
Becoming my sole wellspring of joy,
Aware of the inherent imbalance,
Yet, akin to all my remorseful attachments,
I found myself unable to let go.
The concept of letting go eluded me,
A foreign notion, seemingly distant,
Yet, akin to the frigid days of February,
I understood it would conclude someday,
Nonetheless, I persisted,
Holding on tenaciously.
As the days stretched out,
Snow gave way to melting streams,
Blooms emerged from their wintry cocoon,
And akin to the scorching heat of summer,
My affection blazed brighter than stars.
Picture winning a grand lottery,
That's how it felt,
A sensation of prevailing in life,
The notion of letting go never occurred,
It seemed unnecessary.
Then came September,
A month I abhor with fervor,
When everything crumbled beneath,
Evaporating like recollections of better days,
And the embers of letting go flickered anew.
Fear settled in,
Reluctant to relinquish,
I convinced myself it would mend,
For I acknowledged,
I couldn't let go.
Etched clearly in my consciousness,
That's the date it unfolded,
The day I dreaded,
The day I was compelled to let go.
Anticipated as it was,
"This isn't healthy,"
Tore me asunder.
Here I am,
Penning this poem,
Still in pain,
Rife with remorse.
Such is life,
A journey void of utopian conclusions,
A cycle that persists,
Until the day we depart,
Until the day we dissolve,
Until the day we finally let go."