Author Information
Borrowed
I have only a few
borrowed moments to
call a life.
And somehow, I must fit
an entire age into them.
I spent years chasing arrivals,
only to discover that every
destination quietly demanded a departure.
I have carried enough.
Enough versions of myself
that survived but never truly lived.
So if life asks for another letting go,
I will not argue.
I have gained enough
to understand this:
some doors open only after
both hands learn how to release.
And perhaps what I am searching for
is not ahead of me-but waiting beneath
everything I no longer need.
