"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
I breathe deep, and hear my chest crack. Lightly,
I feel it crack. My shoe taps rapidly on the base of this
Library chair, against my will, as I tap letters into
Virtual being. But this is reality. This is my
Present moment. I breathe deep, real air, and
I hear no crack. I feel no crack. I feel confined.
How can I be well? I have not purged enough
Filthy, wordy oxygen. Or else there would have been
A crack, a broken place, a weakness to be filled.
A hand, to hold. My life, a mold formed by the other
People on this Earth. My mold, entrusted to an invisible
God. Not a myth, but I cannot hear him, or touch him.
A reality? My Father? How? My reality is only
Breathing. I breathe deep. I hear a crack.
Was that you, God?
I chew a corner of a chocolate energy bar, a willed
Battle against a foreign lack of appetite. Food feels
Strange traveling through my whispered body.
Is this you, God?
I get up from my toothpaste-green swivel chair
And go into the bathroom, because the clacking
Of neighboring keyboards falls in tune with my
Rapidly tapping foot, which irks me.
I just stare into the large, dark mirror on the wall.
Is that you, God?
I watch myself breathe deep, and feel my chest crack.
Yes, it must be. Because this is myself, really.
“All that is fully real is Heavenly.” – C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce