Oh the unbearable weight of being!
That cool, calm collectedness I cultivated—
Are we not like so much smoke,
Twisted and curling
But ever transitory, ever fading?
It’s true, I have been beautiful,
But it is a frail and fleeting thing.
I find myself sometimes observing that
That which we hold dearest and strongest and most culpable
Is nothing more than shadow and smoke,
I feel at peace with the cruel and contemplative lightness
Of the world.
-Kaitlyn Medina [3/2/11]