Freedom.
A concept that you seem to have taken away from me.
I may not have shackles on my ankles, nor cuffs on my wrists, but you took my mind and filled it with your undiscovered light—bonding me with questions, expectations, and oddly enough, hope.
How can something I feared so much, bring me hope?
I learned early on that when your name was mentioned, hope followed in your wake, no matter how big or small.
Much like starlight, you spelled the distances and expectations of life, but never gave enough for me know exactly what is was.
Like starlight, you let me create my own constellations and predictions of my own life and stayed silent about it—already knowing the bigger image.
Your light is old, ancient even. Yet also as new as a baby's breath.
You were the outcome to the beginning of time, and now the consequence of mine.
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