Original Essence

The metal is sharp, the past cuts deep

To face it hurts worse than to drown it

But does it?

Externalizing the internal strife

I lay on a cold floor face down

And feel each sensation, alone

I must traverse these sands step by step, slowly

One foot in front of the other, not blindly

My transgressions resonate the reverberation of a distant cry

The cry is the “I” crying in me, yet outside me

Why can’t I feel me anymore?

Separation from self, the pain becomes bearable

And I am not I any longer

But then who have I become?

In this bleak, hostile land I seek reconnection

With that “other” self…the former

The real, the original, the essential…..self

The becoming is thus the “returning”

But how will I meet I?  Will I accept I?

Will I remember I?

Is it too late?