Transparent

I know I am here,

holding myself so I do not disappear.

Not again.

I will always recognize myself now,

never searching in places where I do not exist.

Why would I,

when I know that is not where I am meant to dwell?

So I follow the sun each day,

letting its light remind me of what is real,

and I rest when the moon begins to glow,

trusting the night to hold what the day cannot.

Yet still, a quiet wonder remains—

am I fully here,

or only moving through this life

like something transparent,

felt more than seen?