Abandon desire

Let go of the flame you’ve cradled too long, 
its light once sharp, now barely a flicker. 
It seemed to carve out a path, 
but now the shadows dance unbidden.

Desire is the voice that never quieted, 
calling you down roads that led nowhere, 
its weight pressing harder with every step, 
until the ground beneath you turned to glass.

You’ve carried this longing like a wound, 
and in release, 
there’s no sudden freedom, 
only the ache of empty hands 
reaching for nothing.

But maybe in this nothing, 
there’s a quiet you’ve never known— 
not peace, but something smaller, 
something that doesn’t burn.

Abandon desire, 
and in the absence, 
feel the air settle around you, 
unsure, but still.