The Hole

the hole

This is that hole of mine:

a room on the other side of a two-way mirror
I can't see in
but they see out

I don't know why
I fear it
both a burial shroud
and swaddling cloth

closed eyes
experiencing new memories
seen better
without light

easy ingress
difficult egress

disliked when I am not free
surly and black
at times, half in and half out
caught between those that will be
and I that I am

I yearn to climb in
but will fight again to climb out

I don't know what is waiting in there
or why it works
but it is where my art is
it is where my heart
my mind
and pen
desire to be

distant voices speak
strange to the ear
sounding familiar
they come from my mouth

brilliance in the darkness
its my secret
my secret hole
I mustn't speak of this

time once again
my breath checked in anticipation
stilled with fear

I stand at the edge and stare into the darkness
and know that there will be light within

thinking as I step,
do those others have a hole?

my death and birth will be in this hole
my remembrance and my immortality

brilliance and clarity in choked darkness
mute from noise
blind of sight  

this world
the darkness beckons me
pulse racing
lungs labored
anxiety rising

the darkness beckons again
 

I answer the Siren's call

who is speaking?

Tell me your story...