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The Weighted Feeling. A poem
Trying to explain the inexplainable feeling of feeling lost.
Haunting me, with a passive persistence
The fall crushes
the inertia of weightlessness is itself a weight
Gravity is an enemy of balance
always pull-pushing on our motions
Our decisions lay at the mercy of whatever way the winds blowing
It’s like solid ground is drinking me in through a straw
Like my feet are negative magnets with no positive ground
Commitment is not something I’m convinced of
My passions are a deflated balloon
a shred of rice paper in a typhoon
I am not magnetized by the motions of life
not pulled straight by currents of the rat race
I’ve often sought solace in the wind
in the strength of the gale
I’ve found my heart pinned down, under the heaviness of exhales
Hope, is the ghost that’s inflating my sails
Keeping me locked between balance and falling flat on my face
This feeling is a constantly shifting finish point to a race
One I’m running without covering any space
The feeling is not…