I've begun to fear the water,
and the ground I've learned to stand on.
The shapeless forms that I can't hold,
are beginning to pull me down.

I could sink, nonetheless,
or trip on my way.
The clouds have rolled in,
and I fear they might stay.

My boat has lost it's dock,
and my feet have lost their place.
My mind has lost it's reason, and,
my enemy has no face.

The lightning even scares my shadow
back into it's hiding place, while the thunder
makes me shield my eyes.

I'm not much for storms;
I'm not much for anything.
I've found that every day
I quake, and my legs buckle
beneath me.

I'm afraid I can't take it,
and I'm up against a wall.
I don't want it to consume me;
I don't want to fall.

Because,
I can't walk on water,
or find a place for my feet.
I can barely face the day,
without falling on my face.

A hand to hold won't guide me,
and a comfort won't calm me.
Sleep just makes me more drowsy,
and being awake only intensifies
my fear.