Your Poetry Dot Com

UP

To be alive and not living
or...
living but not alive
just sluicing forward and backward
between these stalls and walls
within our minds
floating upon a sea
of whimsical ebb and drift
a ship lost upon the ghosts
of present and past
soon to run aground
to hit bottom.

The call comes to abandon the tread.
There is no more for nor aft
just a silent screaming
"its time to slip ship!"
to sink slowly beneath the sanguinary sea
and I believe...
I believe it to release a trove of misery
treasured about my heart
with the bubbles of my breath passing
like treasured pearls
reflecting dreams I///'///ve lost.
So I choke them down
into a deathly peaceful dream
but they fail to sink...
They can not be buried beside me.

Why I must ask
Why did I hold that last breath
and escape the big sleep?
Did I see that up was all there was left?
Then what about before
when you first laid your bow
upon this tumultuous sea?
Yes, there is always deeper...
there is always down
Upon the bottom there is mud
and deeper still
there is more

Up?
That takes time.
First you must wallow in the mud.
You can not pull up one foot
without sinking the other
but without struggle
there is no up...
You can not decide one day
to float to the surface like some pearly dream
and magically resurface
No...
to believe in such ease
of faith alone is myth...
It is to sharpen your shovel
against the stone
that lays always before you.

Is there an up?
If you did not see the bubbles
Then I guess you were not paying attention.
It just takes time.
Such pearls can be treasures
worth chasing.
Why not?
Since the other choice is down
but first you gotta learn.
You can not get anywhere
if you can///'///t swim
you must always tread
cause even there///'///s an up
there is always down.

I made that mistake once...
Seems I did not learn
but its much more than that
much, much more...
You have to learn which bubbles to choose.
The largest of bubbles smile back upon you
...seductively
with quicksilver reflections of promise.
but often those bubbles are not pearls at all
they just contain the most hot air
ready to burst
and scorch you.

Heck,
why pick up a coal from the fire
with your bare hand?
It may not burn at first
but eventually it will.
No...
It is the humblest of pearls
that contain the most precious
of dreams
they breath life into the heart
of a man
and remove such bitter loneliness.
It is treasures such as these
which can not be buried
It is where down is no longer so deep
that you can not swim
back up.

--wheels--

This poem is Copyright © wheels