the voice that talks to me,
the one that i call 'Self',
is centered in a hurricane...
my mind is the middle-calm,
trying to rationalize everything -
give reason to that which
truly needs no explanation,
but still my thoughts take
mathematical form to find a
solution to the infinite equation.

who I Am does not seem
permissible.
i have chosen a path...
one that has trapped me
to run around in circles in the forrest.
my dreams, attainable only through
glimpses up above the treetops...
my neck is fatigued from
holding an upward glance for so long...

there are so many trees in this wood,
all hollowed out and statue still...
the breadcrumbs led me back to where i started.

i miss having someone like me by my side,
sharing sohbet
and spoonfull-licks of rainbow sherbert,
after the rain subsided,
and the Sun shone through...

07/23/2003

Posted on 07/23/2003
Copyright © 2024 Bethany Lee