Here, Apathy Died

There was a deep fog, a deep slumber that had been cast over me for years.
The sleep of ages.
Dark, dreary, disorienting.
I seem to have woken from this slumber to find that the stone was rolled from my yearning tomb, allowing the light to shine through.
Echoes of desire once trapped and muffled out, find their expression in the open air.
I am unsure if I am truly seeing this light or if I am dreaming. I walk towards it in astonishment, its beauty filling every crack and crevice of emptiness.
I am walking toward sunrise.
I tilt my head back, eyes closed,
allowing the warm light to cascade over my entire being, touching the parts of me that had been neglected, unknown, swept away, secret.
What was once a dense, thick, forgotten grey fog inside of me was ultimately
transmogrified into an illuminated garden.
The curtain of my eyes lifted, quietly.
The dew on the leaves that sparkled in the sun, beckoned me, igniting my curiosity.
The branches of the trees exclaimed their praises toward the sky, and the sun noticed this, imbuing the tip of each branch with bright silver.
As if to say “I see you and I bless you”.
I think in that moment, apathy had died,
and I am now glowing with desire.
I was shaken awake from the tomb of yearning. The memory of it fading with each step taken toward the sunrise each morning after.
I’d like to live.