The Cave – A Poem by Rowe Williams

Today I am divided,
strange and unknown.
I proclaim my existence
to myself,
who nods in dumb acknowledgment.

I examine the world closely,
and find something that seems
to me. But why eludes me.
I eagerly note its existence.

I dance before the light,
frenzied in my desire
for the shadow to show me,
my essence vitale,
to one who must know it.

The... thing starts to writhe.
Unpleasantly, unattractively.
I find myself repulsed
yet utterly fascinated
by this familiar alien.

I cry out, only to hear my
words turn to gibberish.
I am the me that
this fool is trying to be.
Please, he must hear.

Alien, as I have named it,
seeks to speak.
The words mean nothing, yet
they call to me.
As though a language I once knew.

I weep.
He does not know.
All I can be to him
is ethereal, surreal, funereal.
He lives on, dead.

Alien has left me.
He disappeared, as fog
in midday heat.
He left me, but it feels as though
I am the one who's gone.

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