I am the little blue-green marble
rolling ’round in my skull;
shining a soft light into the cracks and crevices,
nooks and crannies of my own soul.
Dropped to the bottom of the well, ne’er to return.
I am the orb of myself
probing deeper within
sinking in the mire. A dense jungle
rises within. The further I go into my own mind
into my own mind
the harder it is to return;
the path is never the same.
The passage regrows and remakes itself
as soon as my footprint is etched upon the forest floor.
Vines and creepers seal entrances that once were.
The ground behind me heaves in my wake,
taking new form. And
night, after day, after night
I am left with only a small sense
of myself and my being. I
get lost within myself,
always searching for the
Lost and alone on some long forgotten shore
I cannot stand upon my feet
nor crawl on hand and knee.
I cannot retrace my steps
though, frantic I may be; I’ve
wandered too far from the surface –
I’ve gone too deep inside of me.
I am engulfed
in all that I was,
all that I’ve been,
and all that I ever shall be.