occasionally, i find myself
entirely separated from
the rush of living, the blush
of being alive. i find myself
in a daze, a hazy day of
detachment, not knowing
what i should say.
i'm not quite sad, or afraid:
instead i spend the time
wondering where am i
and what is my place
in this vast expanse of
earth upon which i exist.
a reflection, a thought,
of all the time i bought
for myself, to keep going
to the next day. a strange
space between me and
everything else, one i
cannot cross, can't see.
but it's okay, for everyday
we wake up, and sometimes
the cloud descends and
all the things you adore
are naught but a bore,
a distraction from
reflection. i'll wake up
tomorrow, see the light
on the windowpane,
and surely, certainly,
i'll find myself again.