Fishing for a Feeling

Fishing for a log, sitting on a frog,
casting my hopes in the morning fog.
Dropping a line for a line to bite,
but the waters are murky, and nothing feels right.

Swimming with a hook, baiting a dream,
caught in the currents of what might seem.
Hoping to reel in a spark of delight,
but all I pull up is the endless night.

Drowning from looking for a sunken feeling,
a sensation that’s hidden, forever concealing.
Casting my lines into the depths below,
but the more I search, the less I know.

The frog croaks beneath me, a teasing sound,
as I sit by the waters, lost and bound.
For what am I seeking in this endless sea—
a fish, a log, or perhaps just me?

Dropping a line for a touch of grace,
but all that returns is the water’s embrace.
Swimming in circles, sinking down deep,
fishing for feelings that never keep.

For in these depths where I cast my line,
there’s a hook in my heart, a twist in time.
Searching for something I cannot name,
drowning in questions that feel the same.

So here I sit, on my frog of green,
fishing for meanings that remain unseen.
Dropping a line for a line to find,
but the hook only catches the echoes of my mind.