Graceful Exits

 

Graceful Exits
Swooping up, swooping in—
A fleeting interference,
A single moment of intersection,
Where paths collide like shooting stars
In the vast, indifferent night. Old enough now, wise enough too,
To discern the subtle signs:
When to stand firm and say no,
A quiet boundary drawn in the sand,
And when to silently tip-toe away,
Hoping the shadows swallow my steps,
Unseen as I fade into the ether. I prefer exits like that—
No grand fanfare, no lingering ado,
Just a whisper of farewell in the wind,
A respectful bow to what once was.
Preserving the memories we forged,
Like volcanic sand, dark and enduring,
Born from the molten core of the earth,
Warm with the fire of shared moments,
Yet cool enough to slip through fingers,
Unclinging, unburdened by regret. I've learned the art of departure,
The grace in yielding the stage,
Knowing how, and precisely when,
To bow out of a crowded space,
With poise that echoes in the quiet,
And carve a void for somebody new—
A fresh soul to weave their own threads,
Into the tapestry we briefly shared. For every entrance demands an end,
A cycle of comings and gentle goings,
Where wisdom whispers: let go, release,
And trust the horizon to hold what's next.
In the hush of my retreat, I find peace,
A solitary flight into the dawn,
Swooping onward, ever unseen.