I look at this single ice cube in my glass,
I see it bubbling from the sunken edges,
Melting, growing smaller before my eyes
As the warming liquid flows all around it.
Yes, a seemingly lone ice cube, among the many, And I have to wonder - as I often do -
Are the other ice cubes touching it
As their edges are touching to form a single mass? Does the chill pass from one to the other? Silently, defensibly, I actually think
Strangely. I can almost hear it.
Then again, I can almost hear a lot of things. Then, without a sign, it disappears from sight. Not even the coldness will survive after,
As it flows away with the warming current,
And as I sit in my own warming self… I try.
No, I can’t help but find relevance.
I wonder if I am the same
As I feel myself melting away,
Day by day, shrinking from the doubt, Depression, and the on-going pain.
And just as I have witnessed the disappearance
Of this one ice cube, will I do the same?
Will I disappear from everyone’s sight? Unnoticed like I failed to see.
As the ice cube melting in the silence,
Will nothing exist after I cease to be?
Will everything, all that I’ve stood for,
Will it all flow away
With the outgoing, unneeded tide
Of men and women alike?