Bathtub of my Dreams

In the bathtub of my dreams I saw my reflection and did not recognize myself. All white, with colors surrounding me, the tub drained itself time and time again without me knowing and in its place I was stranded amongst the perfect porcelain of the bathroom I had been locked into.

They say breakups are like a blank slate, but it feels more like I'm standing a top a mountain of my being that is, in reality, a trash heap.

How do you find life after death? Perhaps through the caterpillar and butterfly, whereupon the cocoon of your life sheds itself and in its place is the feast that is your life. So sit, people say, and nourish your soul. But will I always feast on myself, by myself?

Some say love is like Mother Earth, the universal love, hot and molten at its core. All the same deep down but on the surface can disguise itself as the wild of the forest and the jungle of cement. Sometimes the molten hot lava bursts through or dries up and touches nothing. And, like love, I have lost my way and my thread.

So what is being born? I don’t know, but it’s mixed with the waves of my past and the light from within.