A BRAND NEW WAY OF SEEING

A BRAND NEW WAY OF SEEING

One night while I was sleeping, the silent dread came creeping,

A free floating anxiety came quietly rushing over me,

Threatening my very core, my soul it tumbled to the floor,

The mental equivalent of falling out of bed,

My bruised and broken spirit fell heavy as lead.

Last night as I lay sleeping, the sharp pain came creeping;

Swift as a panther or a wild deer with antlers into my leg it tore,

A searing kind of pain I could not explain suddenly inside me roared.

It hurt to walk, it hurt to move, a hard dish to be served;

The remnants of a fall perhaps, perhaps an injured nerve. 

Last night as I lay weeping, a swirl of fog came creeping,

Clouding up my memories, obscuring hopes and dreams.

Pulverizing paralysis tearing at the seams.

Alone in dreaded sorrow I feared for my tomorrow

Despair had overtaken me, the gods they had forsaken me,

All the futures I had planned melted off like shifting sand.

So up I stood on wounded leg and softly limped around.

Feeling like a misfit or a most unhappy clown,

Walking down the hallway, by clinging to the wall,

A trip most dour and desolate, just asking for a fall.

Wishing with great fervor that I had stayed in bed,

Meditating softly with the spirits of the dead.

Last night as I lay dreaming, an angel  brought me meaning.

I dreamed that I was at the ocean, walking in slow motion.

Into my pores as I stood on the shore, enveloping my being,

Closing my eyes, embracing the skies, with a brand new way of seeing,

-Bruce Potts

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