Because I wished to have a conversation
I am humbled.
Not because altruism fed my recalcitrant soul, rather, such a state of mind is all that remains when pride and self worth have been swallowed full,
digested until even hunger’s ravenous pit became empty and meaningless.
I have allowed my face to turn away from exaltation, not finding grace within I mistakenly believed there was none to be found. I wallowed in hurt,
crying out...railing in self imposed agony.
Why is there no love for me? Thinking that love might fall down from the heavens like a warm, rain.
Rather, love flows up from my core, out into the wild, into the world, gone, much like that final ray of light as dark peoples my heart while my soul
I have searched for something more tangible than ephemeral. My grasp drawing nothing from the air, only empty arms stretched across the breadth of the
night sky, only yearning for companion.
If I let loose the all, nothing remains.
As empty as an unfilled vessel, a suit hung out to dry on a long forgotten line, while a cold wind blows through shirt and pant alike, through the
tendrils of my torn spirit.
Shivering...I am chilled by this realization.
What use wailing, crying out to that endless night sky, to the stars and their kindred planets, to the entities that my mind people’s those
uncaringly poignant heavens with.
They never answer, I never have heard one single syllable uttered in my direction, only imagined conversations held within the confines of self. No
sympathetic symphony for me, no music of the spheres, nothing.
I am void. Filled only by the memory of an empty life, I reflect back only place. A mirrored breadth of location where I am not represented. So empty.
I am a chalice, upended. Blow wind, send me scurrying like a leaf, skittering without aim or purpose, adrift in speculative silence.
So I drift, rocked in the eager arms of melancholy.
Melancholy however wears a face whose features though at first indistinct, yet time and familiarity cause those features to slowly reveal themselves
until they stand out, sharply contrasted against their former NPC expression.
Like that mirror, I stare down self.
This then is that ennui moment, that moment where understanding intrudes and clears it’s throat as interjection claims an attentiveness previously
lost in introspection.
I am the author of all I am.
Thus breeds humor.
Laughter roils up like a geyser, inundating every consideration ever held, cleansing my previous bile filled rhetoric, as the pages of my life float
sodden in the current of a moments passing.
I am the imp that wrote each glimmering stanza, that read the lyrics and played that part upon the stage.
Again laughter explodes like a volcano whose pyroclastic flows consume geyser, spray, and sodden page alike.
Then, aflame, I rise from the ash of all that has gone before and spread wings of fire.
Rising into a morning whose brightness brings tears of joy, brighter still I flee my self inflicted bonds and rejoicing, rise above the all that I had
been, a Phoenix, born anew.
edit on 7-3-2019 by YouSir because: Titles are so titular...