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The Hole
by Genuine Suede Down inside a dim, dirt-walled cylindrical hole, With room enough just for me, I stand, Arms straight at my sides, Like a student in detention. I can spin and not touch the wall, But that's all. Out of reach above my head, Lies the edge. I can't climb out. There's blue sky above my hole, But nothing else. And nothing stirs; No flying bird, No waving branch, Not even a creeping bug. I sense, without seeing, there are other pods nearby, other souls in holes, just like mine. But we don't talk; We don't try. I'm awake--endlessly, Infinitely Aware... There's no one to care. There's no beginning And no end, this life; It just is. This hole -- and me in it. (C) For info about me, see under my name, above. Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |