I don’t believe it has to be a mystery
but for now
and for me
it is in many ways if not all together, a mystery
and a rather uncomfortable one.
painful is too pale a word with which to describe the experience
and haunting, one too generous.
it’s like a robber, a cheat;
a storm without end; a fierce foe;
a devourer of life and love and of anything worth anything.
without fanfare and seemingly without prompting
it overtakes and threatens to destroy.
if only for a time,
existence becomes meaningless
I’ve heard it’s not impossible to contain…
I’ve heard it’s manageable
yet in it’s grip lies unfathomable grief,
death lies waiting at the heart of the encounter.
a supporter of hatred and rivalry within and without;
it’s an ocean of chaos,
indiscriminate in it’s confiscation of wholeness, expression and movement.
depression is a lie;
it is an echo of truths twisted and confounded with an onslaught of rage and assumed defiance.
it scares me and I feel made
to be afraid.
afraid to live, afraid to not live, afraid to die.
afraid of being in between
afraid of the “what ifs”, the”what nexts” and the “then so’s”
it’s literally like being consumed by the forces of hell,
albeit it isn’t.
inside I’m screaming the unutterable at deafening decibels and in a language so indescribable…in some ways, even untraceable.
i’m alone in the midst of many others;
wide awake with consciousness superb…
I’m held very close yet alienated