This is a continuation of sorts from Pushing Away, last weeks poetic story. In the same way I’m telling a story, and it starts from the point where a writer sits down to write.
Focussing my mind, I seek out my true inspiration.
I fight through distraction and the taunt of frustration.
My mind doesn’t wander, it knows where to go.
Working toward its muse at a pace steady and slow.
Focussing in, I search deeper within.
I shed this nervous and withdrawn layer of skin.
My mind rapidly weaves towards its muse.
Working toward that inspiration it can always use.
Focussing further, I see it up ahead.
I try to catch up, as toward it my mind’s quickly sped.
My mind moves too fast and speeds out of reach.
Working toward an end that no one can teach.
Focussing my mind, I reel in the light.
I reach for it blindly, as it disappears from sight.
Focussing my soul, I search deeper still.
I wrestle with fear and hope to have enough skill.
My soul doesn’t relent it knows what it wants.
Working toward this goal that constantly taunts.
Focussing in, I search the skies above.
I drop this anxious fear about finding real love.
My soul slowly floats, in hopes of this sensation.
Working toward that feeling, its wanting inclination.
Focussing further, I reach for the stars.
I try to keep up, as toward them my soul soars.
My soul flies too quickly, and floats off too distant.
Working toward a wealth that cannot be spent.
Focussing my soul, I reel in the skies.
I clutch at it senselessly, as it becomes miraged lies.
Focussing my body, I set out over land.
I struggle with pain and can barely stand.
My body won’t give up, it knows its target.
Working toward its strength, a goal it won’t forget.
Focussing in, I search over hills and through valleys.
I lose this overbearing weight, as my pace rallies.
My body lurches forward, bearing down on its end.
Working toward the peak like it’s a long-lost friend.
Focussing further, I strive for the summit.
I try to regain footing, but begin to plummet.
My body falls too rapidly, this journey becomes beseeched.
Working toward a goal that cannot be reached.
Focussing my body, I reel in the ground.
I claw at it desperately, as it gathers around.
Focussing my breath, I plunge into the sea.
I grapple with drowning and can barely see.
My breath won’t relent, it seeks pure genius.
Working toward its brilliance, it won’t fail us.
Focussing in, I paddle through seaweed and into dark caverns.
I leave the burdens I’ve carried behind, as my heart yearns.
My breath holds on, as I swim deeper down.
Working toward the bottom to find this inspirational crown.
Focussing further, I dive for the abyss.
I try to hold on, but something is amiss.
My breath gives way, and I begin to sink.
Working toward this fantasy has put me on the brink.
Focussing my breath, I grasp at rock bottom.
I stretch for it relentlessly, feeling the rocks as I push-off from them.
Focussing my everything, I rise past it all.
The struggle is past, I’ve risen from the fall.
My everything is enough to overcome any obstacle.
Working toward anything, I now know I’m capable.
Focussing in, I overcome what stands in my way.
The loss of resistance, has pulled me from my stray.
My everything pushes through as I find the pinnacle.
Working toward it no longer requires a miracle.
Focussing further, I take hold of my inspiration.
The attempts have been realized, I can turn to creation.
My everything has found the way to my full potential.
Working toward my best, is now so essential.
Focussing my everything, I can achieve anything.
The possibilities are endless, to make something from nothing.