When I set out to find answers,
it was like how the sun sets out of the sky–
firstly illuminating, then fading slow, slow, slow,
and finally plunging into darkness.
It’s not that the answers were unexpected–
in fact, quite the opposite.
As it turns out, seeking fire and brimstone
leads you to fire and brimstone.
I still have an ember from that inferno
held under the tightly woven treated threads
of fire-retardant fabric.
I miss seeing that ember, but the smothering is necessary.
The only way to gather new light
seems to be first extinguishing the old,
but never forgetting.
No, never forgetting.
There is nothing here for me now in the thick brush
where the light is tinged yellow by the leaves of the canopy above,
nothing there for me now in the desolate desert
where the vast sheet of stars overhead overwhelms.
I love you.
That doesn’t change anything.