May 07 2007
Hold On Tightly
Rough, flat, grey concrete
Reverberates dully beneath my
Canvas-clad feet.
I stride with a preternatural purpose
Into and towards a horizon that’s sure to hold my
Future.
The sky, streaked with red, oranges, and
Swaths of brown,
I recognize the brewing tumult,
But I pay it little heed,
Moving ever-onward,
Convinced I know exactly where I’m
Going.
My eyes opened, yet unseeing.
My mind closed, drugged by false assurances.
I step, then trip.
I slip, then fall and fall freely,
My arms flailing about.
I’m finally awakened to the state I’m in,
Realizing all has been for naught.
Yet, with one last swinging thrash of my arm,
I grasp hold of a singular branch,
Held to a mere clump of grass.
My concrete has vanished,
And I cling to the last bit of verdant earth I’ve found.
I hold on tightly.
I hold on tightly.
Relying upon that root & branch,
And not upon my feet & progress,
It seems that the more I trust,
The more it grows.
And the greater it grows,
The more I am lifted,
Until I am again on solid ground,
A ground filled with hills, valleys, textures, sounds, and swells;
A place where life abounds and colors flourish.
This is thankfully not a world of my own making.
APN.
Copyright 05/06/2007
