Literature
Elsewhere
There is a peace
or so we have been told.
The peace of the inside,
personal, reflective beauty.
Days a-plenty go by,
but myself reflected
I do not see.
What must I do?
Has my visage betrayed itself?
I look within, but all I see:
a Façade, a wall, about my heart.
Not a single stone is loose.
Not here
And yet,
a ray
pure and simple
shines through,
recovery?
I reach for the light
stretch with all my might
grasp it, heave it with my might!
Only to slip,
Futile.
As I fall it comes
a single thought,
the answer,
epiphany.
I see it!
Within my grasp!
But then I wake.