Now It’s me, not Me

It’s a prayer, bathed in light.

And As I sit here, about to take flight,

I have a memory. One that is fair, so hard to see. Is it truly there?

I’m not certain, but I hold a request;

may I now be set free, to fly for the west?

Have I done enough? Have I conquered them all? Or must I wait until the last fall?

It is ‘Om’ that I utter with such hope a declare;

for I realize my lateness. Is this truly fair? 

It’s time for a dance. Are you able to see

that rose in the darkness who’s just been set free?