You walk away from everything like you always do. You can never walk away quietly; it is always fire.
You wonder why you are like this – why it has to be this way, but then you know that you never want anything to come back to.
This is how your life is – one circle of flames on top of the other, spiraling up toward some purpose you hope is waiting for you.
Because that must be it, and if it isn’t, at least you burn.
And as you watch your former lives fall away you know that you feel younger now than you did then. And you know this time the finger on the match was yours.
And you know now new flames are being lit within, connecting back into the belief that all that you thought you were capable of is still there.
This is your responsibility; to grasp onto your own inner belief, grasp onto what you belief you can provide to serve wherever you land.
But you don’t know where that is, and you don’t know how long you’ll drift, and you don’t know how long you will want to be alone, free and beholden to none.
You only know now is the reckoning, or the change, or the space that you needed to look back at your own creation; to look back at all you destroyed and walked away from; to look back and see what’s left of you when you return.
For now it is disconnection, uneven terrain, passion and silence. It is a pen in a hand and paper that no one will read.
It is stories that won’t ever be told; it is cities that have no return. It is a map to nowhere and a destination that is foggy; it is the echoes between the mountains, in valleys that reflect back the sound of your own making.