Where am I?
Whilst I am as real as I have ever been, and almost realer than I have ever acknowledged, I have never been so lost.
When life brings new things, my ground turns to sand.
The foundations and structure of life slips between my toes. These feet, are they reliable? Will they stay constant through change, unlike my surroundings? Or with they too, change.
This mind I use so perplexingly is such an inconstant matter. Thus; how can ones life ever be stable, when that which is the foundation of ones thoughts cannot be relied upon?
Trust is naivety.
Sad how this has become, such barriers are formed when being realistic. But a broken relationship and a broken family leave me no stable ground to know any different.
And still the hand continues round the clock. Perhaps in its next rotation, the sand in which supports these reliable feet, may turn to rock. A rock in the middle of the ocean, maybe, but the first in a series of stepping stones, always holds the most doubts.
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