There was a time back then,
when the closest to a smile he could conjure
was a dissatisfied smirk,
targeting his malaise.

He avoided mirrors;

convinced that his desires were misguided,
at best,
he smothered in masks of self-preservation,
nurtured in solitude,
exhausted in cast-iron stealth,
with someday hope.

Someday hope.

The planets aligned
out of the blue,
like an angel whispering
a gentle major chord
that crescendoed into
a dream of flying.

in this free play towards oneness,
in this avalanche
his agnostic soul
begins to call blessings,

he knows,
he has been delivered 
from the non-linear,
when nothing was straight-forward;

with the last laugh of relief,
he soars 
into the loving embrace 
of everything,
of everyone
of himself.

2 thoughts on “Pride

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