The Fear of Returning to Life
I hear your voice,
Buzzing and humming in the distance,
Distorted though you're in front of me.
I hear you as a water-marked copy—
Separated by a barrier of letters and numbers,
Realization becoming fainter and fainter,
Fading.
My hand severs into multiple dimensions,
Splintering before my eyes in assorted colors,
Shifting like a holofoil card when tilted.
The light echoes against the ceiling—
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth
Until I can no longer collect the signal,
Until the signal bleeds out
Into the air—against a wreck of disoriented thoughts
That sink the worry of trouble.
Fading
Is, in this moment, a sense of solace,
An uninhibited freedom—
A percolating swell of ecstasy.
I'm overcome by it,
By the belief of impending bliss—
A bliss I believe so whole-heartedly
That I'm anxiously declaring it imagination.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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