The Dust

I had lost my focus for too long.
A thick layer of dust gathered,
it seemed as a wool blanket
covering my hopes and dreams.
Why had I allowed myself to slip away so?
How had one experience and one person
helped me to uncover and discover?
The dust buried my soul,
my true self, for so long.

Was I so afraid to be?
That I had allowed myself to . . .
not be, feel, think or create
from the inside as I know I can.

How much different the world looks to me now.
How I feel with so much more intensity.
Still, in doing so,
I am aware of the possibilities
that the strength of what I feel will increase,
be enlightened with every turn, with every glance
and with each introduction that follows.

The colors are so bold and bright.
The variables in between are so rich and plentiful.
So full of wonder and excitement
is the path ahead.
Still, I feel fear tugging at my back.
Struggling, the fear tries to keep my steps forward
to a tiptoe, a mere shuffle.
I must push ahead,
fear at my back, possibility in my sights,
follow the path until . . .
I meet another path, until . . .