Light

Time to leave. To let go of it all.

He closes his eyes. The sky is so full of possibilities that when he reaches out, they tinkle against his hand, delicate and glassy and beautiful.

Someone is sending down soft pastel shades. They settle on the clouds, on his hair, on his open palm.

There is more light than he has ever seen before. He wonders how he could have missed it.

Everything flashes gold as he touches a possibility. The feeling reassures him. Nothing can be right or wrong. He is just moving onwards.

He closes his fingers, and the sky flashes again. The new world opens around him, and he steps in gladly.

Life goes on, even when it doesn’t. And he is just moving onwards.