I think there is a feeling
that exists with out a word describing it.
When the camera’s focus softens
When I fade into the background
Suddenly I am monotonous
the edges of everything grow fuzzy
I am naseous but not in my body
I am drained of depth and difference.
It is not a thing I know.
It is a felt reality.
Everything is the same as it was.
Except for just everything.
I have no name for this.
Don’t call it sadness.
Sadness is a waste product of this reaction…
I am looking for the source.
There is some reason for grattitude amidst this.
I see things in a way now that I never could have.
I don’t know how to tell you
That I should have cherished the time before this.