Rise Up

I sat there. Dazed!                                                                                           It has come to this. How                                                                                  I became dross they walk on,                                                                         has to join Kilimanjaro, the                                                                                  Taj Mahal and the all times                                                                       Great wall of China. Huh! Why                                                                            am I still here? I may as well assume                                                        room temperature. Looking up front                                                                  at that moment, there it was. That                                                             single ray I need to grasp onto.

I was drowning, deep deep                                                             under. Darkness all around.                                                                             Fear soaked my bones. My                                                                         soul drenched in sheer anxiety.                                                                Thoughts gimping to tunes of                                                                desolation, swimming in the                                                                           sea of lethargy. My orbs roll                                                        upwards, waving the white flag.                                                                    But there on the shimmering top,                                                               there it was. That floating straw.

The wind’s hitting my back hard.                                                                Whence i come from i know not,                                                   destination a lidded eye, covered bulb.                                                      Well, loss is inevitable. Limbs, back,                                                         neck, life, name it. Red was all it came to                                                       be. Alarms going off in my head. Dizzy,                                         queasy. Squinting my eyes to sight what                                                                   would save my fall. Black was all it was.                                                      My brain all white and gray. All over?                                  Flipped. There it was, thin balcony railing.  

It’s all minute. It just won’t                                                                          do. A ray? Who am I kidding!                                                                 Hahaha! A straw! Can an ant                                                                    hold up an elephant? Demise.                                                               Reaching out jeopardizes my poor                                                 fingers. Their longevity more probable                                                           at the foot. What of my everything                                                    else? What of how I’ll hold onto it?                                                           How much longer? Quite evident right?                                                     My mind yelled, 'let go’ and I did.                                                 Vanquished.

Is this the coda? Giving them                                                                        the laugh of the century. No                                                                                      grief, no sorrow, no regret in                                                                                                        them. At the expense of a bright                                                                                                   tomorrow for present short-lived                                                      consolation, you stop digging, stop                                                                                 pressing on. That’s wise folly, futile                                             quietus. May seem like getting blood                                                                             from a stone, but where there’s will,                                                                        there is a way. Fight harder, try further,                                                              press on.