Nothing to blame,
no one to hold accountable—
only moments, choices,
woven from what I knew,
what felt right beneath my hands
I move forward,
certain in the light I carry,
until time bends it,
fractures it,
a prism of new knowing
Others watch,
shaping their own truths,
their own colors of understanding
They do not see what I saw,
just as I,
now standing elsewhere,
question the footsteps I left behind
But this is how it is—
a shifting lens,
a constant unfolding,
the quiet undoing of certainty,
the gentle grace of change