You’re not the first one to really see it, you know.
Nor the first to feel a meaning
or a presence beyond yourself
when it slips through the bevy
drifting before its face.
You’re not the first to feel the transfer
that comes between the wisps,
and hits you up top
before coursing the spiderwebs,
out your fingertips.
No, you don’t get that claim.
Or get to be the first to know what to do
or the first to climb that mountain.
And you’re certainly not the first to put yourself
in a position to succeed.
You’re not the first to feel awe, or love,
when you see it,
wishing you knew what was behind
the message received
from that cool, warm light.
And you’re not the first to fulfill your wishes,
or be an original for that matter—
even the ones
who get credit for being one
walk a path forged before.
Circumstances might be different,
the idea or result might be different,
but the impetus, the passion?
Spun strings connecting years
of the same long cloth.
You know, there are strangers among you
who have walked a similar trail,
and felt its embrace
when they thought there was nothing left—
blessed when they acquiesced the rest.
But you have eyes and get to see,
and in looking,
get to make a choice—
to reach and accept
what it’s trying to tell you alone.
And when you do,
and feel you have a special understanding,
don’t be disappointed
when you learn
you’re not the first to discover that either.
Just enjoy that there is a message
that relies on your eyes—your lens,
to understand the brightness,
or where its face is looking,
and if shrouded in shadow, that it’s still there.
— ❧ —
From the Moon
This one was inspired by the moon, but I didn’t want to put “moon” in the title for reasons I’ll leave for you to decide.