Now you know. All that exists is now. The beauty of breathing. The beauty around you and love. Just plain love. You don’t expect to be loved back any more. You know nothing can hold you anymore.
It’s so simple really. Look at the clouds!
Step out of your Self.
Caught in those murky depths, you slowly began to choke.
You learnt in your mother’s womb. You waited, remember, though you knew, all you wanted was out.
When you found love it scarred you. You were branded, seared with hate, born of love.
Self-preservation reared its head.
You made a life for yourself. You learnt the art of separating soul from body. You began to free your mind.
You thought things had changed but a dusky fog penetrated your shield and fed itself on energies fostered by your errant mind. You lashed out. First at others and then at yourself.
Self-preservation kicked in, yet again.
You perfected the art of living. You gathered forces, rose above the blackness, which threatened to engulf, and found pristine clouds in gloomy mists. You rose, defying all gravity. You left it all behind. Nothing mattered. You forgave the world.
You forgave yourself.
This is in response to the Sunday Photo Fiction Prompt, hosted by Al Forbes. Thanks for the opportunity!