Bipolar When It Counts











{December 7, 2012}   Poem: Cycles

Climbing
Ever climbing.
I will never
Return to
The horrors
Below.

The nightmares
Are gone
Because I do
Not sleep.
I don’t need it.

I fill my lungs
With pure, fresh
Air, and rejoice
At its icy coldness
Deep within myself.

The mountain
Peak is within
Reach. I can reach
Up my hand
And grasp the sun.

It’s heat doesn’t
Burn me.
I am
Ice.
I do not melt.

I turn back
To the crags above.
An eagle flies
By and gives me
The power to fly

I can
Go no higher.
I flap my
Wings. I rise higher
Yet. I am out among
The stars.

They are Beautiful.
I reach out my
Hand to touch
The silvery white
Disk of moon
Far away, yet mine.

I grow fearful.
I wish to go
Home, but I dont
Know how.
I cry in vain.

Somehow I
Manage to return
To my home. I
am not in control.
I hit the ground.

I open my
Eyes to see the
Night sky above
I cry in desperation.
It is time.

I claw my way
Into the ground
To bury myself
With the worms.
I belong here.

At first, I am
Safe in the cool,
Dark earth.
Then I get a chill
And fight out.

The eagle is there,
Waiting for me.
He bends his neck
So I may climb on.
I am ready.

This time,
We fly into the
Milky Way to see
It’s violence,
And beauty.

I fall
Back to the earth.
The light is blinding.
Back into my hole
And try to die.

I cry when
It doesn’t work.
I struggle against the
Bonds of dirt that
Hold me down.

The cycle begins
Again and again.
I cannot escape
I do not want to
I must find release.

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