Perception – Am I Coming or Going?
The question slides between the eyelids of a morning,
a breath caught in the hinge of a half‑opened door.
I stand at the edge of a world that shimmers,
its surface rippling with every glance—
a lake that remembers the stones we toss in,
but forgets the stones that never fell.
Am I coming?
The tide of sight rolls in, a tide of sound, a tide of scent—
each wave a promise that the world is arriving anew,
that the first note of a song is already humming inside my ribs,
that the scent of rain is a whisper that has already touched my skin.
Or am I going?
The shadows lengthen, pulling the edges of my awareness
toward the quiet interior where thoughts dissolve like mist.
I feel the retreat of colors, the soft unthreading of language,
the slow un‑spooling of the thread that once tied me to a moment.
Between these two currents, perception hovers—
a restless pilgrim with no map, only a compass that spins.
It arrives on the tip of a fingertip, a sudden chill,
and departs on the sigh of a closed eye.
I am both the candle that lights the room
and the darkness that swallows its flame.
I am the echo that follows a word,
and the silence that precedes the word’s birth.
So I ask again, without answer, in the mirror of my own gaze:
Perception—am I coming or going?
Perhaps the truth lies not in the direction,
but in the motion itself: the endless turning
of a wheel that never knows where its rim ends,
where its hub begins.
And in that turning, we are forever arriving,
forever departing—always, forever now.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: February 28th, 2026 08:34
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 29
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange, Gumdrop, Dan Williams, Poetic Licence, Efrain Cajar
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Comments7
As Solomon said - All is vanity
Yes, thank you
This poem speaks of a process that has enough ambiguity that one can not tell where one is within it. There is confusion and simply the awareness that one is. Well written
It's life, Soren. My poem poses a reflective question about identity and belonging in the context of time and perception, suggesting that the essence of existence lies in the journey rather than a fixed destination.
Yes indeed it is the process not the outcome that I hear in this poem
I ask myself the same thing, as I met myself coming back from town while I was on the way there! Eh? Me talking rubbish again! lol.
You're never talking rubbish! You understand what I was trying to say. Well done,orchidee.
Friendship, this feels expansive… like standing inside a thought as it breathes. The movement between arrival and departure never feels rushed. It’s reflective without losing warmth. That closing sense of endless turning lingers beautifully. Well done, my friend. Happy Saturday to you! 55 here in PA, hopefully much warmer for you! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
This is just wonderful. Starts out strong "a breath caught in the hinge of a half‑opened door." and gets better. You could have stopped after "but forgets the stones that never fell." and it would still shine. Then the conclusion, always leaving only to return, closes grandly Very nice.
This is very nicely written, as with all things in life,it is not the final result that really matters, it is what what we did or how we arrived at that result that matter's. Enjoyed the read
Agree with you. The motion is endless and ends with life itself.
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