Edahs eht ni ecalp A

Everyone seems to

want their place in the sun.

They crave the warmth of the rays.

They want to bask in the glow,

feel that they are the ones in the spotlight,

that the heat from a far off star, heats their body,

pulses, and radiates, just for them.

Everyone wants

to be a star.

All want to shine so brilliantly,

obviously, unabashedly, amidst a boring,

mostly dark, sky.

Those who wish to be stars, want exposure,

want obviousness, desire display, and for

people to point a them and say,

“Look! There it is, or, ah,

gaze in wonder at the star up there in the sky!”

But even stars aren’t visible during the day.

There are many who want to be blazing suns,

and more who simply wish to be bright.

There is a collective yearning to be the one bright burning star,

or at second best, a nighttime celestial body.

So many want to scorch the earth

upon which they lay an eye,

and others wish to subtly light the midnight-clad

curvatures of the globe.

There is an intense desire to be gazed at,

observed, glared at, blinked at, and then,

as a result, when the glare becomes too intense,

shied away from.

So I find my place in the shade.

That which is shadow, I know to be home.

That place untouched by sunlight,

and shrouded from moonbeams,

is where I find the greatest sincerity.

I live in the place of secrets, whispers,

tenuous trust, and an absence of vanity.

I’m not exposed to anyone there, I have only the

persuasion provided by the truths in my heart and soul.

I have only my voice in the darkness, I have only my wit,

and intelligence, in the blackness.

It’s the place without airs,

the place that makes one face fear.

It’s my cherished, appreciated, and comfortable, place in the shade.

Humbly yours,




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