Her

I am afraid of what awaits me in the silence of the evening.

But it’s no monster, no foe. In fact,

I know her well.

I am afraid.

I am afraid because what if,

What if: what she is is less than what I’ve always wanted.

What if: once I illuminate her amidst hazy wisps of distraction,

She fails,

Shatters the mold,

Suffers rejection,

Is outcast.

What if the path she sees so lucidly,

Lies beyond my intelligible capacity.

Yet, there she awaits me in the silence of my being.