In the silence, I find comfort.
The lack of light, an infinite liminal space; the time in between being.
With no escape from my mind, I am forced to retrace each broken strand.
Each story, where I existed solely as an enigma, turned upside down, inspected brilliantly until the light hits all of the edges.
A prism of colors blurring out a previously black and white existence; what once was hidden can now be found in each endeavor.
In the lulls of life I can reach deep, scattering the ashes of old memories, rewriting history with this new lens.
With this, I can live free; I have met my deepest bits.
I have cried with the child within, laughed with the cynic, and pleaded with the unyielding; I coaxed the darkness into the light, muttering thanks and sweet nothings into her ear.
The woman who looks back at me in the mirror today holds entire galaxies in her eyes; a cacophony of broken notes, masterfully sewn together at the seams.
The old and the new, as one, creating a whole.
In the silence, I can dream.