"The Fading of
the Spell"
For the longest time,
I soared high in an atmosphere
where my very breaths were intoxicated.
It was the intoxication of an illusion...
The belief that the cosmos revolved around me,
That the hand I held would never slip away,
That the walls of security I built could never be breached.
I drank the poison of false anxieties, mistaking it for nectar,
And accepted the fleeting whispers of love as eternal truths.
And then,
Another intoxication took hold of me—
The intoxicating high of feeling "important."
I convinced myself the gathering would grow dark without my light,
That they could not survive without my existence,
That no decision could be carved without my counsel.
I crowned myself with a grand, imaginary crown of indispensability.
But Time...
That silent, relentless traveler,
Who listens to no plea and stops for no king,
Stepped forward without a sound.
It gently lifted the heavy crown from my head
And untied the blindfold of illusion from my eyes.
I opened my eyes and
looked around:
The morning arrived just the same, and the sun rose on its own hour.
The gatherings remained vibrant, and laughter still echoed.
The person for whom I was as vital as breath
Was smiling warmly by someone else's side.
And the mighty walls I took pride in had dissolved like sand.
Now I stand here,
Completely grounded, with a mind clear and bare.
Time has washed away every trace of my intoxication.
There are no illusions left to harbor,
No desperate urge to chase ghosts,
No obsession with my own worth, nor a stubborn need to make others vital.
Time has taught me its final, quiet lesson:
Whether the high belongs to a false assumption or a fragile ego,
With time, every intoxication must fade away.
