I hear it echo
deep beneath
like water that drips
one drop at a time
into a quiet cavern.
Echoes turn to rhythm
and I am filled
with a familiar melody
as I blink, walk, and breathe to the beat.
Sung from underwater,
it can exhilarate me
conjure up feelings of
dance and storm;
but mostly it exhausts me
dehydrates me,
and I am pulled under.
What used to seem like momentum
I hear like dragging feet
and the drips do less to complement
than to contrast
the storm I once could taste.
I know that I am the ocean
but with waves that tire
the current can be lost.
Sometimes I feel like the drop
dripping over and over again
and I am futile, worthless.
Sometimes I feel like the cavern
empty and waiting,
absorbing more than I contribute
and wasting time.
But I have learned
by sinking and racing
(and failing at both)
that often the best thing to do
is just to float,
and listen.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
I hear it echo
deep beneath
like water that drips
one drop at a time
into a quiet cavern.
Echoes turn to rhythm
and I am filled
with a familiar melody
as I blink, walk, and breathe to the beat.
Sung from underwater,
it can exhilarate me
conjure up feelings of
dance and storm;
but mostly it exhausts me
dehydrates me,
and I am pulled under.
What used to seem like momentum
I hear like dragging feet
and the drips do less to complement
than to contrast
the storm I once could taste.
I know that I am the ocean
but with waves that tire
the current can be lost.
Sometimes I feel like the drop
dripping over and over again
and I am futile, worthless.
Sometimes I feel like the cavern
empty and waiting,
absorbing more than I contribute
and wasting time.
But I have learned
by sinking and racing
(and failing at both)
that often the best thing to do
is just to float,
and listen.
