It is that perennial immateriality dwelling between living and dying
crouched in the corners and grappling by the hinges
only to remain unseen;
We weave our web of what we believe we understand
of the relationship of our acts and events
only to remain misunderstood;
From that odd wisp of steam of heated discussions
to the urgent hiss of a new page calling;
I teeter on that thin ice —
That single space of uncertainty —
And I ask
“What am I doing here?”.
(Cecilia Borromeo)
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Based on Topics: Relationship Poems, Uncertainty PoemsBased on Keywords: acts, dwelling, odd, dying, ice, space, believe, calling, web, weave, steam