Resource

An old poem I found, on an acidy sheet of paper, partly gone, and gave a new life to.

Stepping out of a hall
Brimming with empty echoes
Unsure of what may be truth
Finding myself in a cold, solitary cave
I drink from a pool of strength.

It is bitter and hard to drink
Sticks to the roof of my mouth
But it is, through all, an addiction
The power of independence
The impetus to forge myself
The glamor or never depending on another.

In time, as ever, I will step into the light again
Dancing amidst all of those voices
With my newfound sense of pride
Letting it drop in little crumbs
A bit here, a fraction there, detritus
Until my thirst is no longer slaked
And I find myself once more
In a silent chamber, recuperating.