In Mid-air

Okay, so I was bored, even though I was supposed to be listening to one of my favorite mentors. Linguistics just suddenly seemed to become harder than Mathematics, I wasn't so sure if I got myself in the right course. Anyway, because I was practically almost clapping my palms over my ears, I wrote something that might be a cross between poetry and prose, or...I don't know. It's stressful to follow the conventions of poetry, you know, unless you're willing to compromise on writing about what you actually feel.

This probably is the most unconventional piece one could ever read (but not really). Solomon's Song of Songs just might had subconsciously inspired me to write this baby. :)

In Mid-air

Floating in mid-air, a groan escapes him.

Of fear. In agony. In pain of waiting. In uncertainty

Of tumbling down or of proceeding up.

Of climbing up, of seeking. Of walking.

Floating, due west.

"And when am I to proceed?" he asks. He floats.

"Dizziness overcomes. Fainting. I'm about to fall and let go of hope.

Fainting. In mid-air."

As long as the Lord keeps showering glitters on the dark skies each night,

She remains. She waits.

Waiting

as he floats and wades.

Floating. Wading. In mid-air. Towards her. In mid-air.

"How long until...he comes?" she asks. She waits.

"Fear overcomes. Of not being found. I'm about to fall and let go of hope.

Fainting. Barely waiting as he

Floats or faints. In mid-air."

To those who have nothing else to do and would want to analyze this, you may use the Reader's Response Criticism, but I do recommend New Historicism. Haha. Nah, whichever, I believe the meaning's too obvious, you wouldn't even bother to choose a theory to use here.

Take heart, readers in the wait. Both you and your soon-to-be's might be confused and still floating right now, but do not let it overcome you. Bow-waves may sweep past you, but never panic. The waves will pass; the rocks will show again.

<3 Aine