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The Season of Becoming
Self-reflection, when life doesn’t feel productive enough
They come and go, those phosphenes in my mind
when everything around becomes mundane
days when nothing scares this monotony away
zoned out, frozen in the tangled threads of memories
It feels like being attacked by a million vicious thoughts
trapped in this rumination, an unbreakable bubble
salt stung and half-forgotten self, I dissect my life
I remember who I am, but a mismatched version
a sum up of repeated refrains and half-baked dreams
she runs marathons on some days, on some she crawls
a one of her kind Alice, lost in a labyrinthine bluebell forest
solving this maze with the perceptions made out of life
listened to what April whispers in the wind after the brumal days
stirring up my dormant spirit of showing the courage to bloom
even the ocean throws back those things the tide refuses to keep
stepping into some rain-soaked beginnings once again
taking each day as it comes, I…
