Reaching.

There is something lost, some silence which I have been seeking for some time. I sit and stare into the darkness and I see a vision of something I wish I was. I see the echo of what once was an effort. I am lost in everything I want and everything I cannot find. There is a tiny sliver that I only see when I am looking very closely, a small fragment of a circumstance which is a never-ending circle. I walk back and forth through my days searching for something which I very rarely find. I am below the things I expect to be; I am looking for the surface of the water, staring into the blinding light, holding my breath, reaching… reaching.