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.