Water

Thus far, my life has existed in harmony with the tides,
an ongoing cycle where highs and lows collide.
I’ve been scorched and seared—my soul incinerated by the sun,
until everything holding me together had been undone.
But then I was raised up high, floating like a balloon.
Here I danced in the sky and stood proudly by the moon.
I morphed into shapes—weightless and wispy;
I drifted aimlessly through heavens—infinite and risky.
But then I fell so low into puddles of grey rippling gloom.
I waited and observed ‘til my soul found solace in the doom.
Here I was driven over by racing vehicles, trampled on by youth.
Here I lay, bleeding, confused, and seeking truths.
Then I ran as far as I could into surging oceans,
where I swelled and stormed in tempestuous dances of emotions.
I harboured shipwrecks—on shorelines, on my soul.
Here I was polluted as chemicals bled into my spirit’s whole.
Hopelessly, I screamed while the wind howled corrupted cries.
Then stillness was reborn, and the scintillating sun reappeared in time.
I was poured into a glass gilded with paint and inspiration.
Suddenly, my essence served to illustrate imagination.
Creating magnificence on a canvas, I elicited colours like a rainbow after thunder—
ripe, vibrant, hues—swirling, beckoning, enticing wonder.
But the canvas lay to dry in the sun, holding captive my soul.
Like an open wound to the salty sea, the pain beyond my control.
Here I called out in fear, composing a symphony of despair.
My voice reached out until my lungs had no more air.
But as a drop of water in a vast ocean, my cries were muted
I'm trapped in a never-ending cycle, I concluded.