Blossom

Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature. 

– Gerard De Nerval

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Dusk or Dawn

Reading last nights post, thought I sounded dark and suicidal. When in reality, I am not one bit dire or lethal. I am sad, but I’m sane enough to still have an appreciation for life. Guess, there are just certain things that I’m going through somehow; that impedes my usual zesty and engage self.

And I do try.

I do my best to find hope and substance in nature, in literature, in family and friends, in little things. However, short lived – I cherish the minutes in a day when I find myself smiling. For it is in those precious moments, that I find certitude. That this would soon come to past.

“Dawn and dusk are mutual friends of the sun; one opens the door for him to a brand new day and the other one has to shut it to embrace the darkness of night.”
― Munia Khan

 

 

Return

I am suffering. It is as simple as that.

Pain got me here. Down on my knees, on the ground. Typing my sorrows into words.

I am writing, for it’s the only way I know how to numb the feeling of such emptiness. The room’s filled with people, of things, of loudness. Yet I am consumed in nothing, but nothingness.

I’ve cried, meditate and prayed. But the depth of this pain is deeper that I could imagine, that I can fully grasp or reach.

I am way passed recognition, over my head figuring out the cause. It’s useless, and I am tired.

Sadly, my return to writing came at the expense of my loneliness.

And for that, I apologize.

“Tonight I can write the saddest lines
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.”
― Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair