sublimation -- poem

rising to the brim--maybe it's there already,
sloshing back and forth from the edge
waiting, craving release but uncertain of how,
from amnesia of overwhelm, forgotten faculties,
forgotten its form and purpose to flow when frozen in
moments
or moment, or then, here, tomorrow,
now

unable to recall knowing
how to fall
down into acceptance of its composition, its liquid state of acidic truth
instead, it yearns to burst through and over--
instead, it bubbles, and threatens to burn

how can it calm, strengthen, create
when unwilling to slip into
the darkness of resolve?

frozen, sitting blinded by white denial,
blotting out creation's brilliance

erasing the prism of choices--
left with sobering decisive

indecision


realization

broken and yet

it discovers fiction in the story of inability to make something out of its nothingness, the fiction of its vaporous state as it was provoked by when its substance has been fluid all along