Page Not Found Poem by Nicola Thoner

The soft sound of a distant chime is killing me

As I breathe this air

Feel this skin

This body is not mine




With such clarity

My feet touch polished wood

Softly.

The realness of it

brings all I am

to the forefront

And I am distant of it.

My mind scattered like pieces of paper in the wind.

All I know that is

truth

is that

My feet touch polished wood

Softly.




Somehow


A surrender of giving meaning

to concepts

objects

life

has reached me.

My surrender

Has filtered through me.

And instead of feeling relief

I feel like I have either sunk

deeper than before.

Or risen

even higher.

There is no difference really

except the point of direction.



But my path could not have varied from the one I chose to take at the start.

I was searching for the same answer the whole time.

And now I've found it.

I have no drive.

Now that I feel it

I don't.

But for the first time

things have never been so clear to me.

I am looking at the world through sculpted glass

clear and purified.

But I am not in it.