Candle Shadows
|

Through the Dark

When you crack the window to the outside world,
You are faced with uncertainty.
Questions of 
Belonging,
Acceptance,
And purpose
Dance cruelly,
Disrupting your thoughts and
Distorting your vision 
Of the life before you.
Opportunity just overwhelms –
It is an obligation,
Not an invitation
For joy and prosperity.
You can only take so much
Before you begin to sink into yourself –
Trying to find solace from the madness,
The never ending conveyor belt of responsibility.
You no longer delight in company,
Take joy in conversation.
You want only to shut out all noise
And lock yourself away. 
It is not so much self-pity
As a retreat from the chaos,
The outer rush that floods
Your stream of consciousness. 
It is winter after all –
A time for hibernation 
And the dark womb of Mother Earth.
And yet we have so few opportunities for rest
And quiet.
Or perhaps we do not take them –
Make space for them –
For ourselves.
Perhaps if we tuned into the soul-call of our own hearts
We could see the flickers of light
That beckon us to explore the dark,
The wild,
The unknown –
To seek answers within,
Instead of from everyone else,
Who have their own questions to answer. 
We can’t go it alone,
But we can’t rely on others to lift us up –
We must find our own light,
Our own way through the dark.  

Spread the love

Similar Posts

  • My Privilege

    My white skin has historically made me “good,”
    And yet the people of my color were the ones who held the whips,
    The ones who beat black boys senseless
    Just for trying to acquire the human right to freedom.

    Spread the love
  • |

    Risk

    What if you could set your
    Mind-Body-Spirit free
    By throwing caution to the wind,
    By turning off your “internal editor,”
    By daring to be bigger than your
    Own small sphere of existence?

    Spread the love
  • Arachne

    When it came time to read our stories aloud in our English class, Athena was, of course, the first to volunteer. I sat in my seat, focused and unmoving, barely listening to her self-congratulatory garbage. All I could think about was how she would react when she heard my story.

    Spread the love
  • Dispassion

    I am coated in cynicism,
    Its chalky glaze pasted with rough hands over my soft heart.
    I see beauty, but it does not breathe inspiration into the blackened cave of my mind.

    Spread the love

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *