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I’m ripped open
torn up
raw
and bleeding
A crimson deluge
Of emotions
pouring into a sea
of Unknowing
*
I thought I knew
who I was -
Who I can be,
but I’m gone,
lost -
Again.
*
Uncharted waters
roar before me -
as always, it seems
Will I forever plunder
aimlessly,
navigating the muddy waters
of Obscurity?
*
Sometimes,
I make it…
grasping,
clambering,
dragging myself,
safely
onto the surety of
unshakeable shores,
anchored in Knowing -
feeling balmy breezes
soothe my tattered skin,
but it all seems so
fleeting…
*
Still.
*
Even if it’s
for just
but a mere Moment
in Time,
feeling the soundness
of the earth beneath
my weary body,
grounding me,
rooting me
to the womb
of Life,
I feel as if
I’m a speck of
The All,
corded to the Earth
like a famished fetus,
my heart pounding
to the
primal beat
of her Core,
Her essence…
sweeping through me,
nourishing each cell,
breathing vital winds
into my amorphous lungs.
*
In that momentary
gasp
of Eternity…
*
I know who I am.
*
On these unfailing shores
of Knowing,
I look up,
with bloodshot eyes,
still gritty with the
arid harshness
of salty seas.
I seek the Light,
and I find it -
but its sheer
brilliance -
splendid to those
used to luminescence -
blinds me.
*
But if I stand
in stillness long enough,
if I remain immovable,
a statue,
frozen within the realm
of Fixed Time,
the Light grows.
It leisurely, yet
assuredly
seeps into
my Center of Being,
igniting a
worn and withered
candle,
its long-extinguished wick,
buried beneath
melted wax,
brittle and cracked
from eons of
sitting on the shelf
of Dusty Darkness.
*
Still, the Light
burrows…
exposing the viability
of the wick,
and with a tender
flick of fiery fingers,
it sparks…
*
and I am
reborn
within
The Blaze
of…
*
Purpose.
*
….
I’m ripped open
torn up
raw
and bleeding
A crimson deluge
Of emotions
pouring into a sea
of Unknowing
*
I remain
Shattered,
A Splintered Ship,
Adrift
in the Vapid Sea
of Forgetfulness.
*
I long for The Day
when I
once again
crash upon
the steady shores
of Knowing.
I ache to feel
the life-giving comfort
of terra beneath my
cracked and trembling
feet…
*
Where the wreckage that
is Me
rediscovers the treasure
of Illumination,
feeling its soothingly
intentional
touch
once more…
About the Creator
Kim Thayer
I was 8 yrs old when I asked for an electric typewriter for Christmas. From my earliest days, I learned that I can more easily explore the depths of me & express myself in writing. Now, I've decided to start sharing. Thanks for reading!
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