Anthology

Ripples

                Standing atop the world, the sky is clear

For once above the fog and haze

The pain and hurt and deception and

So many lies

Above it all I thought

Was clear and wonderful and

I thought the slog, the fight was done

That I stood, the conquering hero.

How foolish, I was.

The ceiling above me,

Crystalline and gleaming

Rippled

When I pressed my palms against it

Circles radiating out from the disruption of peace

Only then did I find

That my lungs were full of expired air

My fingers tipped blue and

The pressure building in my head

In a twist

Of it all

I was not standing atop it all

Just floating, face pressed

Looking back at what I had let slip by

From the bottom

Of the world

They tell you it is lonely at the top

They never talk about how desolate the bottom is too