Righting Self Before Stumbling

And if my going towards you is when I stumble the hardest, when I bruise the blackest, when I see the least light,

When I cry the hardest,

Should I not stop making these tracks and turn toward the opposite sun instead?

I have stumbled before, and badly.
I have bruised before, and could not walk for the pain of it.
I have followed the faintest of lights before, and lost my sight.

And the tears that I have spent. All. Those. Tears. (I am hard pressed to find anyone who has cried more for a lost and lonely and hopeless hope than I.)

But always, always

ALWAYS

I manage to right myself, my bruises fade, and I begin to see again.

And I run out of hope to cry for.

BUT

If my going towards you is when I fall and never rise, when I bruise the bruise that will never fade, when I never again ever see,

When I find no end to the tears,

Should I not stop making these tracks and turn toward the opposite sun instead?

Limits are never the easiest to discern when running towards a light one can barely see. And one can never tell when strength will choose to depart. When will will disappear. When right will cease to matter.

So maybe, maybe,

MAYBE.

A different sun would be better for me.