Fading Into glass
Fading Into glass
To the world around me,
I wish to convey my doubts.
I am unfamiliar with believing what I see,
or trusting the ground beneath my feet.
For when I try to hold on tightly, things slip away.
Not entirely physical,
so I let the quiet tell me what is real.
If I were to wake up,
discover this whole life was a daydream,
the loss of our everyday routine
would be my subject of grief.
Memories floating away from my grasp.
Hours spent counting the illusions of control.
Intangible and fleeting.
Indirectly felt. Hope says,
maybe tomorrow will prove it’s all real
to me.
But the morning never gives an answer.
Only solid enough to deliver
the surface level of a tangible world.
Leaving me ignorant of the deeper roots
anchoring our existence.
When I try to feel more than
the solid walls of my room,
it falls flat.
Never anchoring,
I feel guilty for questioning the light.
Maybe I could arrange my thoughts better.
Clear enough to be understood,
deep enough to make sense of this fog.
Asking myself what stays behind,
Begging for a glimpse of truth,
Catching shadows on the wall,
Doubers trapped in a theater,
Every second passing like smoke,
Finding reality in the ache.
For me,
I used to chase the daylight,
A common thing
yet it felt distant every time.
No matter what I touch,
It feels the same as those fleeting dreams.
A child reaching for what isn't there,
looking for answers from a universe that stays quiet.
I truly am trying to see,
I cannot even begin to find the edge.
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