The Truest Thing

Sun pierces the blinds as the dream so real you could touch it fades into something you can't even remember. Sleep presses down on you like some wrestler trying to pin you to your bed. It has gotten hard, lifting the weight of this life and carrying it with you through the labyrinth that is making a nut of food, shelter, and love in this quicksand of changing rules. You look to what you know, and it doesn't really help. You have to learn, and learning for you is frightening. You have to learn that not knowing is the greater truth. You draw upon this unreasonable fact for strength. Then you take a breath, look hard at the tools you carry, which will never be enough, and you swing your legs out of sleep and look down at the floor. Keep you eyes there. Wake up. Calm the voices that say no. Be vigilant. Remember that you have beliefs and inviolable convictions. Doing little harm when feet are kicking you down is the way. The pain of sharp edges on the soles of your feet as you stand is the price you pay for moving forward into the stream that smooths and polishes your rough edges. You grimace and then let them go, and move, in spite of your desires to sleep, your tender, pink, fresh skin open to what waits for you. You take one step, then another, and you do this because it is what you must.