Over the Victoria Mills waterfall, the spray awakens my senses
Standing here over this precipice with a river of emotion exposed beneath me
WTF, I’m lost, gazing, and just content to stand and think
I don’t want to “get into it” yet the falls splash up and I hear
Those questions of aging…
Are those the cold hands of reality tightening their steely grip around my neck?
I believe real courage is to stay focused and finish each day’s tasks with a kick
Without reserve and without resignation – to do the best you can do at all times.
My shoulders slouch forward and I stare into the current, defying any time to pass
Isn’t it fitting that the world spins counterclockwise?
Man keeps pace by counting minutes, marking days.
One man, one life, reflected against the earth’s revolution.
So, gazing at the water I must ask whether I am drifting away with the current
or have I long ago sunk and haven’t noticed that I have been sucked below the surface
and now lay slowly decomposing on the riverbed of limestone and muck
And I feel that cold hand closing around my neck.
Is any of this real? Am I all here? Or do I just occupy this space?
Every now and then I see that there’s traces of life.
Water splashes up and the drizzle again awakens me, and I refocus
On echos of my thoughts, spoken straight to me,
something about not giving up on your dreams
for something inside is about to die too…
So, this will be the day; this is the year.
Starting now; going forward.
Like past oaths that ring hollow before they even escape my mouth
But it is whatever gets you through to the other side…
And every day I have been left to think of the possibilities of the promises broken
It’s a sinking feel that is found in the deepest pit of my stomach
That reaches up and takes hold to swallow my senses and leave me numb
I simply want to live again; to feel my life, feel my breaths
feel the aches and pains, the draws of my breath
every fiber of my being
I want to feel the space I occupy and all the space that surrounds me
in this overbearing world filled with anxious uncertainties
This large, unfathomable, hungry world in which I am but one being,
at this moment, searching the emptiness in the middle of nowhere,
not certain which direction I’m heading or how to choose
But scrapping, crawling from day to day to make something of my existence
and, perhaps, to stand again and step forward
with a purposeful stride and with somewhere to go.
– Chris George