Cyclical
by HelluvaGirl
I have come to know those tides now.
They rise. Time and again.
Each time in a different, more and more subdued way. Only a vibration of a deep underground explosion now.
I went on after that day. Persistently, as I do. Not assured I was right in flashing the axe and forcing myself to be smart. I never completely own that role, to be frank; not any more.
After a week or two, I turned around and noticed I was healing. Moving on, so to speak.
And I was glad.
That’s it, I said. That’s it. I never believed I could do it, and there I was. Waking up. Falling sound asleep.
But the tide… Nature’s got its thing.
Don’t reach out, don’t say a word to me. Don’t help me slip.
I don’t want to be down there again. One word and I’ll slip. Don’t.
And then…
When I was a kid, I often had nightmares. Within a dream, at the point of not being able to bear it any longer, I would somehow remember it was but a dream. Still asleep, I would then lift my hands, reach my eyes and tear them open. And I would wake up with my fingers on the eyelids.
That’s what I do.
How come now I wake up to the same dream time and again? Where is my way out of this matrix?
Those tides, they come. God, do they come.
I sometimes think…