Ten, Ten, Fourteen
I think on my future and it seems bright, but I don’t know if I can make it there. The road seems treacherous and overpowering to me. Some days I wonder, and stand up, alight on my feet. Should walk, but I don’t know where. The road twists, winds and weaves around corners I cannot see.
An overbearing presence, a dark wyrm writhes inside. Now kneeling I beg for peace. Crack my bones, stand for a workful walk, try to sing a note. Walking through the woods the beast begins to churn. I fall from my feet into a crevasse and am not free from it’s torment. Water drips from my throat.
Chancing upon a woven rope I climb. For days I swing my arms to catch the height. The depth is too great for me to scale, I tire and lay back. Years I struggle with the rope and incline. I push with strength, but struggle as I might the endless energy I need I’ve always seemed to lack.