Nightmare

What am I afraid of? What keeps me up at night?
I feel like I'm drowning, but there's no water near
My stomach clenches, my hands perspire,
My blood races like a river under my skin.

Is it money? The lack thereof?
Is it fear for my lack of talent?
Questions, questions, questions.
Where are my answers?

I dreamt the other night a secret dream.
I was down in a pit whose walls were made of glass.
Everything was dark
There was a light at the top end of the tunnel.
The surface wasn't smooth, however.
Some of the glass was cracked
just enough to cut my hands if I climbed out.

I did everything to climb from my prison,
but nothing would work.
I'd wrap my hands in cloth that I'd torn from
my clothes, but the glass shards would grow,
lengthening to slice through to my flesh.

I'd find rope, and it would break,
Other passages would appear,
but would end in dead ends.
Then the walls started crumbling.

Then I saw My Heart overhead
In the opening by the ray-of-light.
Or was it her all along?
She smiled and held out her hand
to me, her delicate beautiful hand,
but I couldn't reach it.

I jumped as high as I could,
and swung my arms,
but it wasn't enough.
I knew that if I could just reach her,
All would be well.

But she was too far away.