Constant

We are not digitally enhanced.
Our spirit comes, unedited,
Even if we have been physically remolded.
One can sense the energy.

True, some wear blinders,
Either subconsciously or not.
Deception is a cruel use of energy;
Tainted output.

Positive forces frighten us, though.
Looking at the light too long
Makes one apprehensive;
As if we undergo an endurance test.

How long can we keep this goodness?
When everything we see dies,
Or drifts out of our visual range,
It feels like we are undeserving.

Nothing, yet everything, "belongs" to us.
How can one realize, we are what we lose?
We are the adored pet, family member,
Icon, or object that passes into another frame.

We are that movement, that change.
Being stuck, clinging to a moment,
And how things seem to be,
Doesn't allow flow, progress, growth.

So, this moment, I will let it be.
I will hold all in the palm of my hand,
And feel the changes, and wonder
Why I even have to try.