Growing into drowning

Thoughts becoming actions turn into deeds,
one reads of such things,
the words that take wings to fly beyond
the supposed boundary of the
‘who and what am I?’

and what if I am the distant
descendant of some
Neanderthal man?
did he not love too?

then who I am is
where I am
then I get lost

I need an expansion chamber
attached to the inner eye
and I
am lost
to ego.

we are in the lighthouse at the edge of time
where space is dark and planets wait
in line to pass

I can’t see if
I can’t be
and He
who knows it all
will watch quite casually
as I fall
and when I rise
watching words take wing
into the blueness of her eyes
Time to
it is fate that waits
for me.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.