Often I wish to indulge in writing that comes from the soul. But when I consider that state within which I must enmesh myself again, I withdraw from the thought itself. For, to be lost in that cavern of whispers and heartbeats, I must lose myself.
And in losing myself, I cast off from that solidity that is akin to the dock of land that fades away in a shroud of mist. Why must the indulgence of thought, sinking deep into the heart, be sunk in darkness? Darkness, that although not necessarily deprived of happiness, somehow communicates an element of melancholy. When we touch our own souls, we come away with an aftershock that affects us to the core of us, which makes sense, because our core is that soul itself. But we lose ground, we tumble from our perches, however stolid they be, and we fall into a realm that defies gravity.
Other times, when we pull inward, we fall harder and hit the bottom hard. In reaction we generate questions that furrow within us, through our bloodstream, through our nerves, sending out transmissions out to vast spaces unknown.
How often do we refrain from acknowledging the frequencies and vibrations that shimmer beneath that surface? We shy away from dipping our hands into that stream of emotion. We skip over the stones hoping that we do not slip, a pretense that we only are afraid of getting wet, when we are truly afraid of drowning.
And those times, when we want to drown. When we have parched ourselves dry, from renunciation of the experience, instilling the craving for a chance to delve into those cooling waters, to feel the euphoria of sensation entirely, even at the risk of drowning.
Sometimes, I am scared of myself. I am aware of these sensations within me, that, like compressed gas, when let go, can fill an entire universe to saturation. Like magma beneath the earth, heated and powerful, ready to erupt into volcanoes, or like the waters so placid and still that can tilt in a second and cause crashing and clashing tsunamis that leave you without a breath within the flicker of a heartbeat.
I feel if I indulge, I will lose anchor and drift into those mists that I am not sure where they will take me. Sometimes I know, because I have been there often enough, But it is unpredictable. I think about letting the shackles of caution go and jumping into the deep end, but then I stop.
And in losing myself, I cast off from that solidity that is akin to the dock of land that fades away in a shroud of mist. Why must the indulgence of thought, sinking deep into the heart, be sunk in darkness? Darkness, that although not necessarily deprived of happiness, somehow communicates an element of melancholy. When we touch our own souls, we come away with an aftershock that affects us to the core of us, which makes sense, because our core is that soul itself. But we lose ground, we tumble from our perches, however stolid they be, and we fall into a realm that defies gravity.
Other times, when we pull inward, we fall harder and hit the bottom hard. In reaction we generate questions that furrow within us, through our bloodstream, through our nerves, sending out transmissions out to vast spaces unknown.
How often do we refrain from acknowledging the frequencies and vibrations that shimmer beneath that surface? We shy away from dipping our hands into that stream of emotion. We skip over the stones hoping that we do not slip, a pretense that we only are afraid of getting wet, when we are truly afraid of drowning.
And those times, when we want to drown. When we have parched ourselves dry, from renunciation of the experience, instilling the craving for a chance to delve into those cooling waters, to feel the euphoria of sensation entirely, even at the risk of drowning.
Sometimes, I am scared of myself. I am aware of these sensations within me, that, like compressed gas, when let go, can fill an entire universe to saturation. Like magma beneath the earth, heated and powerful, ready to erupt into volcanoes, or like the waters so placid and still that can tilt in a second and cause crashing and clashing tsunamis that leave you without a breath within the flicker of a heartbeat.
I feel if I indulge, I will lose anchor and drift into those mists that I am not sure where they will take me. Sometimes I know, because I have been there often enough, But it is unpredictable. I think about letting the shackles of caution go and jumping into the deep end, but then I stop.
