This act of letting go

There is room in my mind for many things.
There is space in my heart for different dreams.
But I cannot find any specific place, within myself, for this act of letting go.
What does it mean, actually?
The idea itself is an utopia. Ethereal.
Like the turtle which the rabbit is always chasing.
The thought of accepting that it happened…
It already took place. You lost it or, eventually, you got it.
I cannot seem to find proper words to express what I am feeling…
I should finally admit that you left me behind. That is it.
And then, maybe, just cry.

There is room in my mind for many things.
There is space in my heart for different dreams.
However, I cannot find any place, within myself, for this act of letting go.

Will I ever…?

KDLevin

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