I think we've grown too comfortable with denial, and a life without closure in all things.

Learned too easily to hold onto that which hurt us, and let slip through the fingers that which could heal.

Persecution of the self became our religion. The god was us, and we were not a merciful one.

“Our eyes are open!” we shouted to the skies, but there was no one to hear us. Nothing to see but the smoke of that fire in us that never seems to stop burning.

This world didn’t need our numbers. The stars never asked us for perfection.

And when our lights begin to fade, the only moments in our lives we will find were meaningful were the ones where we let go of time. When we smiled. When we were free.

Let go.