Rising Tides

Why do people write words of insight,

Dwelling on thoughts intangible but right,

Possibly by putting thoughts on paper,

We create a more understood shaper,

Molding them into a figure of meaning,

If heard correctly and not demeaning,

But the question is still there,

Maybe the writer chooses to dare,

By hanging on sleeve the heart can retrieve,

A small glimpse into their own psychosis,

Seeing it and reading it brings great focus,

To go over what is said like someone else did,

Picture a view from outside themselves,

Stand out from the crowd and step off the shelves,

But why stop there we should continue to share,

Holding it in can be too much to bare,

Release the chip so the shoulder wont trip,

Dropping the ball on your feet rendered numb,

Or holding the chain high to and from,

Sometimes the chains can strangle,

Gasping for air a brain dangle,

Then one day the weight makes it snap,

Fallen down the hole with no light or map,

Crawling up is like breathing in space,

No hope for air not even a trace,

So we swerve to avoid the cataclysmic void,

The black hole sucking us in with no mercy given,

Finding the light at the end of the tunnel,

Not swirling down spirals like a funnel,

Once the light is reached it pours in from all sides,

That is the answer to explore rising tides