Beneath the Surface – by Carolina Ludwig

It nests within me; it throbs, it itches, it yearns to break free.

Yet it must not—for it is acutely aware of the consequences.

It would be chained, imprisoned, suspended, and tormented.

If I were to cast it out—to give it birth—would it truly be free? Or would it not?

And so it lingers now, hovering just beneath the surface, the pulsing of the untamable constantly reminding me of its presence.

Teetering on the brink of volcanic eruption,

yet remaining at rest—

or at least resting just enough

to hold back—to delay—that one final, ultimately inevitable drop

that would cause the vessel to overflow.

Tick, tick, tick—Boom.