Tentatively enduring each agonizing gasp,
you force your lungs to work but your eyes don’t blink.
They finally called your name
and you did the very thing you told yourself you wouldn’t do.
Two steps ago you were safe in your chair.
Now you’re that much closer to that fast approaching future
you thought you’d never see.
‘It’s all happening so soon,’ you think.
The sound of grinding movement echoes behind
the truth that lies deep within.
Even when we have no idea,
deep down we think we have all the answers.
We’re all struggling to say the same old things
in new and different ways.
And those new and different ways
eventually lead us to those same old places.
Don’t beat yourself up over it,
It’s not the end of the world.
When anger goes from white hot to stone cold
that’s called resentment.
When joy becomes a blinding light
that’s called affection.
To hear the inaudible is profound,
to glimpse the the invisible is Orphic

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Photograph above by Delaney Allen, Portland Oregon

Tags:beautyfearlovemysteryPoetryseeingstream of conciousness