Effortlessly Longing
There are days that are in fact easier, sometimes it feels normal and life just flows on effortlessly. Then it happens; days like today, throw you off; you hit, you hit the road: hard and unforgiving. A dragging feeling pulls you down, it is constant: the fight to stay on track. Your head pounds like the rumble of tram 6 travelling, on its tracks, uphill, mocking you: you fell off yours. Its rumble booms over the top of cars rushing loudly and dangerously over the dark dirty charcoal snow, blindly spraying.
Trying to clamber up, get back on track; there is nothing to grip onto, nothing. You reach, all there is is black ice: slippery, cold and wet. Slip, fall backwards, hands try to grip the ever growing hill; the track, further and further away. The hill before you, grows; you fall persistently, until it becomes an icy black mountain and the tram lights dip over the top, all dark. You slide on the wet ice: dark, cold and wet; there is no bottom, the only relief are the potholes that slow you down, yet you slide, onwards. A frictional grip would stop, everything. The mountain top, smaller and further away.
Sliding becomes unbearable. The sun comes up, ice melts, gravel is resistant and painful; yet, toes dig in, scraping against the gravel beneath, digging grooves into the toes of your shoes. Stop, stand, look up, begin the upwards climb; longing, for an effortless day.
Trying to clamber up, get back on track; there is nothing to grip onto, nothing. You reach, all there is is black ice: slippery, cold and wet. Slip, fall backwards, hands try to grip the ever growing hill; the track, further and further away. The hill before you, grows; you fall persistently, until it becomes an icy black mountain and the tram lights dip over the top, all dark. You slide on the wet ice: dark, cold and wet; there is no bottom, the only relief are the potholes that slow you down, yet you slide, onwards. A frictional grip would stop, everything. The mountain top, smaller and further away.
Sliding becomes unbearable. The sun comes up, ice melts, gravel is resistant and painful; yet, toes dig in, scraping against the gravel beneath, digging grooves into the toes of your shoes. Stop, stand, look up, begin the upwards climb; longing, for an effortless day.