pastoral poem about my happy place (one of them anyway) |
I feel it slowly happening to me. No one will take me there, They fear that I'll never come back. But I know the way by heart. Many are afraid of it But not me. It is difficult to get there By the nature of what it is But once I'm there, it feels like I'm falling forever; Like the blackness of space has unfurled around me And accepted me as one of its own. The body fights against But the will overcomes and endures for a time. A place where light and sound cannot reach Beyond the silvery film that waves across the crest. I revel in the victory of my temporary escape Even though I know it's all still up there Waiting for me. I often think about the cold, blue water against my skin To soothe and press my scattered mind into the mold. The mold of Me. |