I came from nothing.

From everything.

A thought or promise.

A whisper of existence.

Premonition of possibility.

Potential shaped and made manifest.

***

Then a shift happened.

I became a part of something.

A part of everything.

Separate and distinct.

Different from the rest but bound by the same rules.

Realization of what could be.

***

Sometimes I cry for what I came from.

To return to the nothing and return to the potential.

Removal from all that binds so tightly.

Sounding a desperate beg before it echoes to the void.

I let it die there so my current potential cannot.

A life not made manifest is not one at all.

***

Let me be aware in a way the abyss is not.

A part of the hope beyond the cry.

Where my actions have an effect.

Making the best of a current situation.

For I am not alone.

The void may not answer, but hope sure does.