Free Range

Poking at the surface now
Probably would be a good idea
Probably in my best interest
To leave well enough alone
So I close my eyes and meditate
In place of open eyes that realize

Realize that I’m

Pressed against the surface now
Trying to force myself through
Like a mesh for water, filtering
Leaving stains and remnants behind
But that’s wishful thinking or so I’m told

I’m told that I’m

Scratching in the surface now
Now it’s bleeding slowly
Not the surface itself but my
fragile fingernails and the skin within
The surface has flaked its way into
me, a part of me, it has become this way

This way I am

Clawing through the surface now
I’ve come too far to stop and I claw
Continually claw and claw
Frantically placing faith in finding
Some muon of answer either
Micro or macro cosmic, I’d accept

I’d accept that I’ve

Breached the surface now
What I’ve found beneath it
too sad to even give a name
Like the hen who laid golden eggs
What have I done, not what I hoped
In seeking an answer, I alone am

I alone am to blame.


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