Center

standing in the center
he couldn’t tell if the weather was wetter where the clouds were unfettered
or if he was standing in the eye and that was the reason why
for the part in the storm torn between the thoughts that made him want to cry
as rain started to pour
made him scream in his heart that I am a part of this storm
but apart from forlorn was a sense of sudden bliss
cleansed of the dirt in his mind were all the parts that the suds had just missed
shaken by his thoughts he realized even the soap isn’t as frothy as this
soaked in misery as he softens all his thoughts to a mist
and he’s finding that as he moves forward he can walk between the drips
and see every single drop reflected in the others
and learns the secrets depicted in the hieroglyphs
were just his own that he had started running from
once he found they were not a thing that could be clasped in his fists
and somehow now he welcomed the symbols back as his gifts
the bestower of which
he pictured hadn’t stuck around before realization struck him down
and he found himself bound to the ground and the sounds
and everything was stuck to him and he was stuck all around
until the air became thick
clinging to his lungs as he felt suddenly sick
upheaval of his innards but it was all just a trick
because inside was out and all that was in
was in need of no fix
his only affliction was fixation on the constant flux
that he could only describe as this
random bouts of rotation that were so perfect they were considered orbits
or bits of a system that he often mistakes for one greater than his
when in fact if he looked in he would witness abyss
and find peace in knowing
all existence was
and still is