Being There

We have all, every one of us, been there, yet it's never the same as being there; with that bright razor slash of confusion like scalpel fingers through one's hair. And the lightning bolts of uncertainty, with incipient roar, crackle and blink; the stranding of emotions on volcanic isles about to sink. The no-reason drowning feeling, running nowhere in a muddy dream; the harpoon impact of loneliness enough to make an angel scream. And love, given truly, cruelly rejected in a whooping blast of cow hand laughter; falling down, breaking the crown as hell comes tumbling after. Where you are now, so all have been, with perplexed, fixated stare; where you are now, we all have been, but it's never the same as being there.