Like a child I woke.
The day stretched before me,
Endless in opportunity.
It beckons.
Hands, now callosed, touched.
Eyes, behind glasses, awed at the sun.
Arms, reached out, slightly cautious.
Will I play or shrink?
Innocence or caution?
Fearless in my exploration
Or ill concealed resignation.
Choices clutter and clash.
Dime store costumes
Mask bitterness and defeat.
Poorly camouflaged to those who watch.
Waiting for leave to shed camouflage?
We wait to be granted freedom.
We wait for the shadows to fade.
We wait for permission.
We wait for ghosts of our own making.
We wait for She who is within
To cast off the rags.
We cloth to hide gifts and glory,
Her perfect and love worn beauty.
And She smiles patiently.
That unacknowledged light.
Without applause, She shines.
Not needing even our own permission.
We may war and rail,
What is Divine?
But who can argue?
The light we are.
She waits ever present.
This embodied light I am.
She has always given leave.
To Shine.
Everyday Muses 