Growing Pains

Growing Pains It pulls in the pit of the stomach like taffy, stretching at the edges in rhythmic motion — a constant discomfort for the common good. Enlightenment is heavy. Not a weight on the shoulders to be lifted, but an encasement — a place to grow wings under uniform pressure. Rest your hand on a mirror and gaze at the eternal distance between the palms. No mighty will can change it. Same goes for those babies born from your diligent womb. Against our chest they rest but for a moment, asking us to remember that from us they came but from us they must always be moving away.