When inside a cavern of loneliness

the sense of light

that beacon of direction

seems rather amiss.

The discovery of finding self

always out of reach

lost bathing near a sunrise

yet still tied in

feeling the rocks and dripping stone

maintain a hold

letting only this internal air be a guide.

~

We can talk ourselves out of

sharp crags, edges, finding security

in good footing

yet words seem to

fall short tossing

an avalanche of self-confidence,

continue to wade in the mire,

we wait upon an out.

~

Seems we will draw words

with our imagination,

yet diving in is our only recourse.

~

We need to recognize the possibility,

to search inside of ourselves

find a target

set our course and commit.

Words will only alone

run astray of a seeming peace.

---

© Thom Amundsen