Poem: Underground

Like an underground river You,
my tears, are always there.
Like I am divided in two
and the bottom half is always crying.
While the top half
interacts with the World.
I can descend into my river
whenever I wish,
simply by letting my guard down,
thinking one too many thoughts
in the wrong direction and
Whoops! Splash!
Drowning and crying,
crying and drowning.

But I never die,
nor am I ever saved
by a Hero or Goddess.

I simply pull myself up,
pretending the river doesn't exist
- and I go on with life.
Unresolved.
Unfixed.
Uncompleted.
About to slip at any moment
back down into the river.
But for now I'm OK.

I used to think the river was good
and may lead somewhere Holy.
Now not so sure,
new power comes
with new introspection.
The more I rise above,
the easier it gets...

Living in the River for years,
the tears are more familiar
than the warmth.
Cold, sepparate, and salty.
They know me so well
that the warmth of Love
always confuses, a creature of
dark being shined by the sun.
The initial warmth so beautiful,
so close,
that the coldness
which used to be my life
is seen as it is;
Sad and Lonely.

Yearning for life in the sun.
Not to be. Not to be.
To imagine I know what Lucifer felt,
what Adam and Eve experienced.
Denial from the Heaven
that oncce was known to them.
Writ in stone:
"Thou Mayest Never Return."
Cast from the most beautiful place
in existance -
to...well... You get the idea.

To imagine I know what they felt;
is that not Pride
of the first degree?