Why Can’t I Find the Key?

Stream of Consciousness Prose Poetry

Traveling through this tunnel of despair, distraught by thoughts of loss — of grip, of self, of sight of what’s ahead. Existential Dread of what awaits at the end of the line. So fine a line of demarcation, between days of exultation and painful sublimation of all I thought I knew of who I was. Who am I if I don’t recognize myself? Is it who I believe me to be or who you see? What if what I believe is a lie, and what you see is a mask? What then?

Waves breaking far offshore, far outside the scope, outside the hope of clearing, over or underneath, the crushing blows that flow, one after another after another. Tumbling, far beneath the surface, below the rays of light. The depths, the dark, the death so close if I can’t break through, break free the surface — and breathe!

A mountain climbed, a summit sought, but what’s the other side? This arduous year long journey, hurdles overcome time and time again, only now, at last, to see — at the beginning again, I be.

The valley once more surrounds me, below the level of sea. Yet another ~door of opportunity to open, if the lock will accept the key.

Where is the key?!

Creative, Artistic, Curious, Analytical. A risk-taker who loves to laugh and drink life in with his eyes. Always reading, observing, questioning.

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