In the midst of chaos I reside,
a distant observer to my own life.
I am in a thought-created vessel,
drifting this calm, endless sea.
My oarsmen row in silence,
their voices swallowed by the abyss.
I stand expressionless at the bow,
staring at the shimmering reflection
of this starlit sky.
Every time I close my eyes,
whole worlds flicker past—
deserts, mountains, lush green plains,
life at its apex, all unseen
in the waking hours.
The night thickens.
Paper lanterns rise on fragile breath,
drifting toward the edge of this earth
where stars are being forged,
where a new moon waits to be born.
The sun hesitates at the horizon.
You are late. Let’s do this.
Dawn breaks.
Dusk follows.
Dark again.
Chaos never settles.
It is we who must find our place within it.
Author’s Note: This poem has been revised multiple times. Some imagery may echo other works I’ve encountered, as all writers draw from the collective well of language and image. The truth it attempts to express, however, remains my own.
Edited with claude.ai’s help.