Distances

Distances grow.
You don't know how, or when, but they do.
You want something , in search of which you become so mad that you forget the rest , all that becomes your concern is the treasure that you want, you become a zombie.
But when you have found the treasure, in the return journey, you find yourself so alone , so lonely.
You know that you can reach out to your people , all you have to do is easily possible , but you don't.
You know you can steer the ship hard.....but you don't.
You feel like you have run out of steam.
You know that the horizon is near , you can see it , but you don't want to go any further.

You are the marine of the poem "the rime of the ancient mariner".
You kill the albatross with your very hands.
The albatross which had been your friend.
You repent for it.
And you suffer.

You know that you can repent....but you don't know.
Am I spreading the word?
Have i become the mariner?







PS: I know its cluttered and not clear......but i can't stop thinking.