My focus…. my focus is abstract.

I am like a bird underwater.

I flap my wings, trying for heaven,

Yet I am restricted.

The only reason I am in this sea,

Of sin and society,

Is because I flew down into it.

This water is cold.

I have been down here so long….,

I almost forgot,

What the freedom of air felt like.

Now that I remember,

I cannot flap hard enough,

To get back up.

This cold water stings,

More when I remember,

The warm air I once flew through.

I am not drowning.

The air that once filled my lungs,

Has not and will not be exhaled,

Until I can once agian,

Breath in its pureness.

How can I reach the surface?

I feel suspened,

By my flaps in this deep void!

Must I stop flapping to float up?

But this temperature,

And this darkness,

Almost attacks my wings,

Into violent submission.

Only the Sun gives me hope.

I can barely see Him in this darkness.

Only the Sun can make me float up.

I must keep my eyes,

On this faint glimmer above me.

I must trust that I will rise.

Even now I can feel my ascent.

My focus…. my focus is clear.