Something yet to be

In the night of my mind,

Where I stood unmoving,

I was never alone.

You were with me,

Drifting a shore I never saw.

One that swayed like sweet grass,

And shimmered in its play;

Rippled with the winds laughter,

Lent its soothing ocean swell,

To the night sounds, when all else seems so still.

I felt the comfort that you laid out for me

Like a great bed with miles of soft sheets.

I felt the peace you shed,

A star of tranquility.

I beheld the infinite that you offered,

Yet denied all that you meant to me.

In that dark that I can't recall,

There was a presence,

A longing and a fear.

The intricate webs of compassion,

That you wove inside of me,

Held me to my words

Have made me all I need to be.

Even with this cognizance,

This understanding, by my side,

I reside within the night,

Pondering all that I have made upon the world,

And all that I still hold inside.

You've sculpted and concealed me,

Fulfilled me and not left me.

I am not the person you have made me yet,

And the shame is so overly apparent.

There is something yet to be in this story

But I will stand here until I'm ready,

To be the thing people seem to need me to be,

And take hold of all the things you've given me,

Become the thing that's yet to be.