Breathlessness...

I recently discovered in an old scrap book a poem I wrote when I was probably around the ages of 10-12. I can still remember, very specifically, that I was at my grandparent’s house, in the back room, sitting in a large reclining chair. It was either late spring or summertime, during the night. The windows were open, and I was experiencing the breeze, and the sound of a few lonely cars driving by on the main road in the isolated country of Pennsylvania. I don’t remember what was happening in my life at the time, but I recall, in that moment, I was experiencing a profound awareness of myself, where I felt like I couldn’t breathe enough air, that my lungs were bottomless, almost like the feeling one experiences when they contemplate the infinite. I felt the large, vast, open space of the dark night. I felt incredibly alive. I then recorded in that moment this poem, questioning what it meant:

What am I doing?
Why am I waiting here?
Why can’t I say something?
What is this feeling I have inside me?
Why do I feel this way?
All I did was read a book, and think a little, and now I have a weird feeling in my stomach.
Is it god?
Who are you?
What do you want?
Why do I feel Déjà vu?
Is my death near?
Explain!
What it is about music that gets me going?
Why?
Help me cry! God! I love you.
Am I in Love?
Marry me.
Children?
My heart cries!
Love is the answer!
Help.
God loves forever.
Me.