The unknown is heavy.
It sits on my chest,
I can't breathe as easily.
It clamps around my temples,
making my head feel hot
& pressured.
It lays across my feet,
so I can't move forward,
or back away.
I'm stuck,
right here,
in the now with the unknown.
No where to go,
I'm scared & alone.
Shaking,
I whisper:
"Unknown, why are you so heavy?"
The Unknown looks up to reveal
its glowing belly and white eyes.
Well,
I hold the weight of the universe inside of me.
All realities,
timelines,
all possibilities
stemming from each decision made.
I'm ***heavy*** with anticipation,
with optimism,
joy, grief, regret,
and believe it or not,
with RELIEF.
People think that relief is *light*.
That it lifts you *ABOVE* the Unknown.
To a place of clairvoyance,
of total understanding.
...
It's quite the opposite, actually.
Relief is in fact the
HEAVIEST of things.
It's the gravity
pulling your shoulders
away from your ears.
Or the feeling of your
bare feet
sinking into the grass.
Befriending the Unknown is heavy.
Befriending the Unknown is relief.
My heaviness can comfort you,
can protect you,
can keep you grounded.
But ***only*** in exchange
for your trust.
Your trust that I am
not scary.
That my weight
will anchor you,
not drown you.
My heaviness will ALWAYS
sit on your chest,
surround your head,
and lay at your feet.
But only ***you*** can decide what makes me heavy.
Whether that be optimism & excitement,
or worrisome paralysis
is up to you.
...
I look down to the Unknown
still sitting on my feet.
It shoots me a little grin.
I feel gravity
softening my shoulders
and the crisp air filling my lungs.
Slowly I lower myself to the ground,
where I sit with my knees to my
less-heavy chest.
For the first time,
I smile at the Unknown
in front of me.
