With powerful strokes we tread through the future
Reluctantly pushing away the waves of the past.
Each movement brings us two feet closer.
Each kick, three feet back.

We dive in hopes to seek and see
What lies beneath, what lies ahead.
Reflections of past times shimmer in our eyes,
And we restrict ourselves from breath.

Limbs begin to struggle and lungs begin to beg.
This time spent dwelling on better times, lost times...
Why do we not surface?
Why does the pressure rise?

The future is obtainable,
Just a couple strokes away.
During this front crawl forward,
Looking back eases the pain.

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