The Rememberings

Beneath the ebbing and the flowing,
There’s a deep and steady knowing.

Not the ground, not a rock,
It’s the walls in which I’m locked.

There’s a dangling of a key.
How it often beckons me.

A sudden call to adventure
Shifts the axis of my center.

World leaning to the side.
Gone for yet another ride.

To escape, to get lost,
Irrespective of the cost.

So, I run, and I am free.
But the echo follows me.

Back in jail before long.
Perhaps it’s here that I belong.

Did I break from the wrong jail?
And disregard the key detail?

It was me, it was my eye.
Blinded by a mistaken why.

If I’m to plot a real escape,
It’s my self that must be shaped.

Like a stone, like a sculpture.
Shaped by patience, not by rupture.

No other hand can guide the blade,
To fix the fractures I have made.

There are answers in my sins,
And from there, escape begins.

To embrace my many fails.
Not to miss that key detail.

And perhaps when I am through,
I can view this place anew.

Not as jail from which I’ll run.
But as a home, said and done.