A white abyss.
The mind has millions of fears as it grows to love.
But, not everyone met is meant to stay in one's existence.
It is never one's choice to then promptly be left.
It hurts more than anything that I can think of.
My mouth may form the words,
and my throat may make the sounds,
but none of those strutures or utterances will touch such longing.
Such a love will stay.
Such a love will stay when it is unwarranted.
I'd just adore being able to say that I do not need the comfort of human interaction,
and I could say so as many times as the raven's will caw,
but it will never be true.
It may be easy to leave.
No strings left to pull, nothing left to hold on to.
Nothing left to truly lose.
Take it all with you in the suitcase of your mind,
but I will want none of your souveneirs to my sore eyes.
It's a bitter parting that doth cause sorrow
that will not be reconciled in sweet morrow.
Oh, for what I'd give for the bliss from the fall into ignorance.
Never necessarily the ignorance itself,
for it is not something I wish to forget.
But if I could have a sheer moment of obliteration in my memory,
a second that I would simply forget
to open my eyes to the blunt force of reality's dull blade
as it takes the time to sink through flesh and gray matter.
Perhaps it is that one bit of gray that I no longer needed.
Losing sects of yourself to the void of humanity creates the path of life does it not?
But it would be a joy to pense the flatline bliss of complete silence of the head and heart.
Or perhaps that is to sever both.
Perhaps that is the eclipse to a day that has just ended.
Perhaps that is the eclipse of truly living.
I just wish that I could hold it all in the pulse of my being.
When I get nervous and feel my heart in the pit of my stomach, or the depths of my chest.
It is a fine thing to allow things to surpass,
to run them out of your system.
But there are some things that flow in you blood,
and stick to the stiff marrow in your bones like a chill.
Only to fall from the grace that was once thought to rest in the gray and beating pulse.
At some point, I will finally be able to feel my being simply collapse.
To sense the metronome slow into a steady beat, never to falter.
The seemingly infinite speeding of thoughts that should have ceased an eternity ago.
The dull ache in my bones and the swelling of
eyelids fillled to the brim with the feelings of past sadness.
To collapse in the cold darkness of a silence well known sounds like music to me.
But there comes a time that such music should be stopped,
the lights turned on and the world faced.
Which is why I get the allowance to be delighted,
for I burned out my own bulbs.
Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.
