It feels as though I make my way
through massive rock
like a vein of ore
alone, encased.

I am so deep inside it
I can’t see the path or any distance:
everything is close
and everything closing in on me
has turned to stone.

Since I still don’t know enough about pain,
this terrible darkness makes me small.
If it’s you, though—

press down hard on me, break in
that I may know the weight of your hand,
and you, the fullness of my cry.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Memories steeped in metaphor

and oozing with allegory

symbolic events
foreshadowing now

I rest upon the essence
of the unknown

a wretched questioning
turns why and how
into suffering

I’m awaiting potential
while potential awaits

another choice I never got to make

another sensation ever left for me to placate

as I circle insecurity
like a vulturous drone

forever together
yet always alone

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