Quiet:

I let the night get away.  Quietly, slipped though my fingers like silk.  Like waves running from the coastline.  Only to come back rushing and slamming and fading.
And now the light is harsh and bright and shiny.  And I am not.
I never will be. Because.

I will be so much more than that, I realize in the beautiful quiet, I will be so much more.  And it’s going to be okay.

I'm 26. Lost and in transition. I don't have the answers, just thoughts.