This Is It

This is it.
There is no epiphany coming.

No single moment
no anointment

no striking clarity
where the veil parts

and the curtain is
torn from the window at last.

You may know who you are
long before you feel it,

long before the sun warms your face.
We both know

it’s there
whether we look at it or not.

The shutter opens by degrees,
the thin film peels away

one quarter inch at a time
as it has been doing,

as you have been doing
even as you swear you cannot,

even as you keep your eyes
fixed firmly on the floor.