The sun beams down upon me: he is happy with me today. Sometimes he is disappointed, other times he may be sorely dismayed.
But I can tell from his loving warmth which spreads upon my complexion that today he is pleased with me, and the steps I am undertaking in my life to cause positive action.
I am able to draw upon experiences which, though once painful and caused such internal suffering, can now be turned into something positive, as though to say,
“Look where I came from, and where I have been,”
then the comparison of what is fruitful and kind, and what I have become, why, I’ve become myself again: from previous terrors there is no need to run and hide.
The illness, the illnesses, the secondary causes, the uncontrollable sense of living, it was in no way assured.
I lived flighty, in soaring delusional heights, I didn’t know what I was doing, only wished for worlds to explore and as I crashed and burned many a-time, faux pas and mental instability a-plenty, I wonder now, how it is that I am still here, alive, writing line upon line.
But I have healed from the brokenness, the fragility, the shattered scenes, and here I am, living freely and openly breathing.
I am here, and I will take each opportunity as wholly mine, there is no need, no reasoning, to falter again, or trip down the line.
The sun twinkles in the corner of my eye, I think I see him wink. I now know for certain that he is inextricably pleased.
Sometime he’s like a child, he can sit there with device in hand, smile across his face, technology doing anything but going to waste.
I casually read to him my words, of the former verse he approves, not that I was hoping to continue, but with this sporadic melody, I will proceed, openly and vocally, I will allow the awaiting audience an open view.
He sits now in contemplative silence, touching the screen here and there, searching for something to amuse him, or educate him, without a concern, without a sense of care.
Because he is like a thoughtful, learning child, growing with his device he becomes brighter and wiser, using today’s opportunities to progress, not falter, and here is the sense of knowledge shown: it will be used, inserted, among his thoughtful, intellectual banter.
But, like a child, sometimes his words will be cast aside, by adults who feel they know more than him; there is such a great divide.
Their understanding does not encompass their understanding of him, and where he lies in reference to his former knowledge and where the new technology and understandings are taking him.
Perhaps someday soon he’ll release something of great use, something accessible and necessary for a large majority of the world to view,
an invention, a contraption, with his initials emblazoned on the back:- congratulatory words all around, these will be all the world will have to say at that.
Bouncing here and bouncing there, With no degree or level of concern or care.
Flying high into a welcoming sky, Falling to a potentially grim reality below. The creaking trampoline springs could catch him, end his life as it is known.
But how does he do it? Land completely on the ‘X’? The perfect bouncing area his aim is nothing amiss; No disappointed ‘Oh’s’, nothing more or less.
Because this six-legged creature is just so nimble and quick, If he ever became stuck in the springs, he’d wriggle his way out – For that was just the way he is.
One particular bouncy evening, this creature had been at it for hours, He bounced and dived and flew and glided His limbs guiding his particularly hairy and colourful form: This rising and falling allowed him to feel completely empowered.
Because when he was a wee spider in the web, barely breathing, unable to spin a thread, He felt lost inside, in a tiny world that seemed to suck him up.
His presence was unwanted by his abysmal excuse for a mother, He felt her unfeeling eyes were bone-dry, with a heart full of ice.
She seemed intent on catching and wrapping her prey, she spent no time with her children, She forsook them due to her obsession with delectable food, abandoning her kin's cries, Their desire for attention.
So instead of hanging about, in a stringent web that kept him in, and the interesting world out, He simply jumped over the edge and bounced: There was nothing left to lose.
He thankfully landed on a children’s trampoline, Perfectly positioned below him, Below the web of unwanted nightmarish dreams.
This was his escape, his adrenaline rush, And he made certain never to see his viper of a life-giver again.
Bounce, bounce, bounce, It cleared his head, Made him smile,
Hitting the ‘X’ at every turn, he would never be treated ill by another again. This he would make certain of; this would be his happy ending.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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