Letting Go



I was holding on to the idea, for a long time, that I matter. I made an elementary mistake, and conflated standing out, with being the subject of distinction.

I realised that it was a figment, perhaps an illusion conjured by a past featuring a Father incapable of bonding and a Mother so fond of championing. I had the tools, though, to be a competent man, and so I was.

This Leonine pride operating in both love and war, served me well for a time, but the curtains reveal, that the stage is shared by all. If there is a remarkable facet, perhaps it is that I am an instigator, a spark for the crowd.

After all, I struck at the heart of dogma in a sphere, positioned against divide and conquer. It seems now I am taking up the mantle, and leading from the front. Perhaps, as with my childhood exploits, there was never another way.

I refuse to accept praise, but I crave to be recognised, but in active participation, so I can do more. It took me thirty years to realise that I am not important, and that selflessness is the catalysing agent for holding any true measure of influence.

I love to see what people can do, once they are given the voice. Sometimes all it takes is a moment to be seen. Perhaps it’s the greatest gift of all, and if Roisin ever sees, perhaps it will shake her at the core. Then her name will be in lights and I only need be proud.

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