Permission Granted

I glance across the bridge at you

in the distance,

now blurred around the edges

The old days are lanterns floating gentle into the sky.

When first I spotted that yellow-white flame, I took out my spool and threw the string up, once, twice, thrice

It never hooked,

and I stood under its light pacing in the memories of what was, pacing with indecision of what should and could be

Now you

You stand, back to me, miles and miles away

on a path I can barely make out

And I,

Well I have granted myself permission to step in any direction that feels firm under my feet.