The other me brandishes an epiphany, riding shotgun.
He waves his eureka lightbulb at those who wish to redo that which was undone.
Untied, unbolted. Revived, revolted.
I watch as insecurity and fear of failure,
scamper into the glutinous darkness of non-wonder.
Dancing for those who have not yet seen the light.
Through sacred flight my epiphany arrives for all and is delivered in three.
NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE. I am now free.