I Fall Into Myself
Sometimes,
I fall into myself,
get lost,
surface twenty minutes later,
gasping for air.
Sometimes,
I am wholly here,
focused on the matter at hand,
aware of all that surrounds me.
Sometimes,
I give myself away.
This, too, is a way of losing myself:
glassy-eyed and only half-aware at best,
too drunk to remember but not drunk enough to forget,
I throw peanuts and start fights,
wreck cars and moments,
always hating the fool inside me
who surfaces with a vengeance
when I look to lose control.
Sometimes,
I am clear-headed and almost even smart.
I think before I act,
weigh risks versus rewards,
consider the consequences of my actions.
This is when I seem to act intelligently.
This is when I’ve almost got my shit together.
Sometimes,
I forget all this –
the real world and its responsibilities,
this construct we call society and
the world at large.
This is when I dive recklessly
into the cool waters of the moment,
freeing myself of my worldly obsessions,
letting life carry on in its odd, unfocused way
while I give myself to the cool waters
pushing against my limbs,
as I almost effortlessly
swim out farther, dive deeper,
letting the rhythmic waves soothe the savage beast.
Almost, at times, at peace.
This is when I live for right here, right now.
This is when the something more than that I am forever seeking
washes over me with such a ferocity
that all I can do
is sit back
and wonder at the limitless beauty
of a moment.
copyright 2006 Katherine Andrews
