Sunday, February 25, 2018


When I fall,
Or am I pulled?
Deep into the dark
Uncertainty of purpose
And identity
No one or nothing can save me.
I am buried
Like a pebble in mud,
Trapped, immobile
Clinging slog.
I can’t breathe!
I surrender,
And wait to disappear.
Yet, I see me.
I see a tiny kernel
Of me,
Compacted, condensed
And real.
I am...
It’s the part if me
That cannot be crushed.
The essence of stuff
That makes me...