There comes a moment

when you feel the weight

of your own ignorance,

not the embarrassment of not knowing

things you ought to know,

rather an oppressive weight

that hangs like crude oil

on the clear blue waters of your conscience

that claims inescapable responsibility

for the seepage of your attention,

for years of casual denial compacted in layers of numbness,

for sleepwalking through clear moral choices

and for doubting your aliveness

to take the whole slow river sludge

of ignoring, constantly ignoring                  

 the thundering inner waterfall

of knowing who it is you are

letting all the ignorance surrender its heaviness

to the edge

crashing from a great height

as you release every shining drop of your being

into the fullness of this moment

free and, finally, weightless.