I thought I was lost
Separated from what I thought I knew,
From what I thought was certain.
Everything had been turned upside down
By something too small to see.
That has moved through existence
Like a shock wave rearranging the fabric
Of the alternate reality within which I was held prisoner.
But I was just adrift, alone within the room in which I dwell.
Yet still, here, the essence of me.
A viable entity, arms, legs, emotions;
I possess a voice to cry out in the vacuum.
I am motion, I am a vehicle of recovery
Beaten but not broken.
Sheltering from the rain, numb to the pain
A survivor of the storm.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.