At times in my life I’ll go through these anxious spirals, and during such periods it feels as if the world–my existence–is limited to that very moment, that no future awaits me. However, when those times pass, I often look back on them from the comfort of my current state. I realize during those mental blocks, I’ve simply forgotten the reality of my future, that no matter how rough things seem, how dull my foresight grows, I will get through it. This poem just tries to capture that feeling.
Again it will arrive;
At times believed to be
But marred remains, distant
Dreams, ran away and gone.
Quite soon it will arrive;
Beyond the stormed night,
When stars have dimmed to nul:
A clouding of the mind.
Once more it will arrive;
That shining gust of wind,
A cool breeze for tired,
Dilapidated souls.
And yet the sun still shines;
Before it has arrived.
They said your head’s made of
Made-up problems, sour lies.
But know when you arrive;
At placid lakes in peace,
That wicked retch has left
No dent in your embrace.
And if you don’t arrive;
Hold true until you do.
All the world feels the same,
Their minds align with you.
Again it will arrive;
When all seems dead and gone.
Life will come to broken
Bones: you will be renewed.
