Madness Prevails

    With my finger I reach out to the midday sun, singeing the flesh. I beg for a new pain to overcome this one of timeless age, but am denied the right of shackled freedoms. Madness would be a welcomed guest in the mansion of this confined mind. Even an animal has four corners by which to choose it’s lair.  But I am cursed with damnation. Neither do I have the divine gift of illusion. Did Houdini take it all for himself in all his moments of brushing against the throws of death? He must have surely felt alive, instead of being suspended in an everlasting nothingness? Again, I reach out touching the fervent heat in the hands of Apollo, seeking relief from this terminal ailment coursing through my soul’s essence. Be as it may, I am denied counsel of  the gods. Shunned am I, without doubt.

    Looking deep within I find an emptiness that can never be filled. An emptiness that has no beginning, neither does it have an end. For if it had one or the other, then it could be filled. But alas, it shall never have solidity. Only an undefined darkness without light. A gloom that lingers just as clouds do, after a furious storm passes by. With all due irony, I find a sweet serenity at the core of what can not be defined. Echoes flow freely, reverberating sounds of miss and want. Memories trapped within the confines of endless binding. Regret soaring ever higher.

    Time is without meaning. In all respect of it’s conception, it can be defined as a prison of a certain freedom. A freedom that can never be taken away, oppressed or even mutilated, as is practiced in this nightmare one calls life. Seeds are planted within the great hole of emptiness never to be filled, and even bare strength to grow. But they never bare fruit. Only do they linger long enough to fade and wither away, leaving yet another memory for an infinite time immemorial.

    Time has been appointed as watcher and keeper of my fate. Fate? Does mine even qualify as such to be an honorable entity of time? Is it fate that I have been appointed to carry upon the back of this burdened soul to bare forevermore? I think it to be more akin to toiling the fiery coals of hell, tending to all those that enter with nobility. No, even nobility in the fires of hell I’ve been denied. I have not so much as the grace of a foul plucked and beheaded, running the course of the eve’s path. A lone star without shine in the ethers of nothingness is my allotment. Time is the mistress I am cursed with, breeding nothing but more time. Again I reach out to the candescent skies…

    Surrounded by drunken darkness that bleeds upon the vitals of my being. Polluting the very optimism that is life. Endless badgering against my sanity has left me weakened, saddened by an inescapable torment of memory. Memories of what has been, what is, what is feared will be evermore. Reaching once more, but not to the skies, I touch the key to my sanity. I touch the very salvation of my being. With each stroke I find a new comfort in my solitude, releasing inflated bitterness into the air of nowhere. Leaving behind many unresolved emotions that have no place in this salted life.

    I find a new herb to garnish my plate with. It is a most welcomed find. Feminine in it’s very nature, but with the strength of Zeus behind her. Yes, it is she that keeps me fighting for another  moment in this time of nothingness. She is whom I have found a certain trust, though I truly know her not. Her encouraging ways tickle my inner sanctum holding the light of my being. Like the bellows of the fire, she brings forth the winds of life encouraging me to live once again.

    Oh, how I yearn to live as she wishes me to. How I do so very much wish to find that eternal peace she wishes upon my soul. How I do pray to find that clear vision where it is plain as the whitest snow draped over the darkest coal. But she knows not of me. Only that I am but a moment in her allotted time on this earth. Another of many she is to console, to harness her powers and redirect this misguided soul. For she is a light, and a light is well known to last but a certain time. One is to never know the length a light is given, only that it is given. And should her light be of great power, it is then to be beyond reach. For a light of this magnitude is declared a star and a star is beyond humanity’s touch. Forever to be observed and admired, but never to be graced upon by human hands. For human hands do tarnish all they touch, destroying what is beautiful and innocent. It is a madness that prevails.

Reviews

[marytownsend]

This is sad but beautiful! A glimmer of hope and light clutched by madness. I often think that this is how we all live. Great writing!!

[Stacey Watts]

We all find ourselves reaching for the light. I think it is called hope. We are created to strive for it. It is the one thing even in madness that well help us see light at the end of the tunnel. I like the way you wrote this. The narration is truly well written. Be careful my friend you just might be on to something. Nice start I can't wait for tomorrow's.