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.