Maybe we're meant to burn bridges.
Maybe we were to meant to forget.
Maybe there's solace in solitude.
Maybe we're only the sum of all that has happened.
Maybe our hearts are light when we're born, and only get heavier. Our bodies weighed down by dust and memories.
Maybe it's okay to erase, to move on, to let the past live in the past. It could be that remembering is the root of our problems.
Maybe nostalgia is a disease.
Maybe we let our skin get marked and burned, a simple canvas for life's brush. It may be a sad song, or a familiar place, that causes us to tremble.
Maybe our memories are irrelevant; only tinder for sadness, a match to a puddle of gasoline.
Maybe we're meant to exfoliate, scrub clean, and never look back.
Maybe letting go of what has happened to us is the first step in discovering who we are.
About the Creator
Mike Peterson
Poet. Yoga teacher. Nature enthusiast.
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