Tipping Point
A Poem
Each day I think I’ve gotten there
The tipping point where I’ll feel better
Over the hump, on the other side
But this cube is sideless
The time is long, the nights are short
The days oblivious, can’t tell them apart
My mind is a flurry of randomness
when really, that’s all we have
This day is that day, the next the last
I want to climb this mountain
but I can’t escape the past
It’s always becoming my future
History repeats itself, often with fair warning
Unless you bathe in ignorance
and some mornings, I have to admit
I want to run that bath
I just want to know that I got there
Across the threshold of doubt
and into a wildfire of hope,
if that exists anymore
But every day as I feel it inside of me,
it shrinks and melts
and I start to realize that
the only tipping point I want to see
is the one where everyone gets it
so we don’t have to keep doing this
again and again
