catharsis

 

I wander through doorways ensnared in a cloud  of pewter-toned chaos;
and, staring above the glare outside the windows, I see the same misty tones.

As I listen to the echoes of long-quiet promises and wait for the answers to unspoken questions, colors swirl and blot into the same dull hues.
I hear rumors of angels' murmurs…important but indistinguishable...
that keep me awake, persisting that I think I feel something...anything.
Yet there are no smiles, no tears, no chills of fear or apprehension or expectation;
and I wonder: How can that be? How can it be that the entire universe
goes on around me and does not include me? How did I begin as a free spirit
filled with life, composed of love, contagious with laughter to become no more
than an enigma in my own mind?

There is lightening; and my brain tells me that it's followed closely by
the rumble of the skies tattering the cosmos from the ground out,
and I sense nothing more than another wave of leaden emptiness
settling in my roots and saturating my core.
There should be more. I know this because there has always been more…
and, if I couldn't find it, I invented it. I did this by setting a goal and then,
keeping my eye on that goal, taking one step at a time until it was within reach.
Now, realizing that it is a new age—certain that it is an era I chose out of desperation and frustration—I continue to wander and to stare and to tell myself that it is a defensive move…but I am aware of the fallacy. Truth be told, I relinquished my will…

I survive, but do not live 

 

I witness but do not enjoy 

I hear but do not listen to those rumors

Yet

Knowing that they are the very thing for which I search 

I ask myself

"Why?"