Weak Knees

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My knees went weak.
It was a jolt of lightning in a gray, frightened sky.
I’m clinging to the hope of that lingering of light for once one has seen the world it is harder to return to blindness.
I would rather paint my life red and fear the black, than paint it eggshell and fear nothing.
To fear nothing, is to know nothing.
To know what I have known, I have seen black, but I have also seen prisms, and whites, and now I have seen red.
My knees went week when I saw it, its brightness, its brilliance.
I saw it and I feared the sunset, its departure. I feared the dark, the return of night, never before now have I feared the stars.
My hands shook, my knees went weak,
And I knew.
I fear the stars because I want the sun.
I want the sun.





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