Surface
Ankles weighed descending, struggling to swim up.. to breach the surface.
The mind recoils, decades stretch like tanned flesh within the minds recesses.
Into the depths I plummet, humbled enough to lose the ambition
The will of fire relinquished by the insecurity of guilt, not knowing how to progress.
The optimistic lover of life struggles from within an encasement of superficial flesh.
Like a newborn writhing within the placenta, yet this newborn was instilled with knowledge.
He will be brought into a world consumed with hate, yet in the back of his mind,
there is an idea, there is an irreversible force which produces perpetual momentum.
Questions float in multiple bubbles, with my naked eye, I watch them defy every aspect of human logic.
What is this place, and why have you not explained the complexity of a dream?
A man describes the idea of God, and the stranger full of trust listens with wide eyes, mesmerised by the possibilities.