The Paradigmatic pool

Breaking the surface to a déjà vu of what was, what is and what is still to come, hearing my silent screams from a voice that has long since forgotten its righteous tone.
The impoundment of self has been the refuge of comfort and the chamber of torture.

Up or down, sink or swim the wicked consistency of yes or no remains the only corner stone to the pool of crimson emotion and forceful denial that I have come to know as home.

The emergence of hope and the possibility of a bridge back to my soul, my soul a new refuge from me and a place I fear to neither divulge nor share lest the waters of home follow the ever-present downward flow and lay waist to my last fertile ground.

Yes’s and No’s taunt and haunt, the what was is set in stone but the what is to come by seemingly wicked trickery longs for consistency of the same stone.

Do I refuse to accept that which I want with a loathing desire? As the desire to be out the pool in which I choose to drown rather than a warm new life, breathe…. Breathe….. Just need to hold my head up as the lifeguard will surely soon see me and pull me to the warmth of my new life.
How can I be saved when I am the master of the floating puppets all bobbing and swaying to a well-rehearsed sonnet of sadness?

Break free, stand up and look at the reflection from where you have come, respect the bridge that was cast with tears, blood and pain. Listen to the sweet comforting melody of life carrying you into blissful realisation that the melody can’t be paused nor re-started but the tempo and balance between the high notes and low have and always will be yours to control.