So precious, things gained by independent endeavor.
I, who have so sanctified independence,
and known so tragic little of that word.
Bravery is little more than fear masked carefully
by the veil of stubborn intent.
I am not brave.
This is not fear.
Rather, I am so quietly
(trembling with care)
ascending these stairs,
marking this path as my own.
The stars are bright.
I am alone.
This night is hollow with the resonance of my journey,
and I am thankful, delicately,
thankfully expecting.