Falling through the ether, light and sound filtering through me like smoke
Thoughts are here too, they crash against me
Sometimes holding me up like a buoy
Sometimes pulling me under like crashing waves.
Reason and purpose taunt me but are out of reach,
slipping through my fingers like water through a sieve
I twist and turn in the current
undulating like a dancer to music
Sometimes going with the flow,
Sometimes fighting every movement.
I need something solid to grasp.
Something to anchor me in the swaying movement that is my mind.
You reach in and take my hand,
knowing you could be pulled in, too.
"Rearranging the deck chairs, are we?" you say.
"I have to try," I say back.
Copyright Steven Clark 2012