Reflections

And what troubles you?
The nothingness of reasons,
The confusions, cluelessness
Like a bird stretching wings to fly
And the wind drying her eyes
Yet unaware of where to fly
Unaware of where she flew from
Unaware why she flies.
But her tears are drying,
And isn't that fine?

And what do you plan to do of it?
For a moment, just swim deep
In the blues of ocean
But not so deep
That the pressure crushes me
And I fail to swim up again
For the ocean is lovely
But the air is where my breath lies.

Does it hurt? Or is it a relief?
It hurts, yes, and it relieves, yes, too,
Uncertainty doesn't hurt, does it?
Does watching the stars hurt?
Lying on toughened glass, gazing above,
Only the glass is now broken and piercing
And the redness deluging from you
Finding its fade in the black of sky
The glass hurts, yes,
and the stars relieve, yes.

What do you do for ending it?
I don't.
I can't.
I don't wish to.
I just let it flow and it flows, like Niagara,
Hits a rock and speeds up
Turns into a mist for a summer relief
Or falls, down and down,
And down, and down,
Lost forever or perhaps on another journey.
Perhaps, a cycle to flow and return and fall,
Again.
Isn't that the cycle of life they talk about?

What does it feel like?
Like a farmer watching rain.
He needs it and the wheats yearn and yell.
But will it overdo and rive his dream?
Can it not?
Or like a knife stabbed inside.
There is blood on me and within is metal,
Sharpened.
And if I remove, it hurts and I may die,
Do I wish to die?
The knife remains in, as if part of me already.

And what helps you?
This does.