Sitting on the window's edge,
comfortably propped up on my favourite chair,
I realise I have no purpose.
I stare into the distance;
the winding road in front of me disappearing into the horizon.
I've always wondered what's at the end.
Perhaps heaven itself?
Or a place to atone for my sins?
Or just infinite fields of lavender?
I do not know.
I do not want to know.
For I have seemed to settle into life's endless monotony.
I've been reduced.
From a hammer to a sickle.
But I worry not, for I know I've matured.
The sudden flutter of wings in the night no longer scares me.
People can no longer hold me down without me springing up harder than ever.
I'm happy,
For I know I've grown.