The year is closing… another year… 


I sit here in silence, as always… I feel heavy. I try to describe my emotions in my poetry, in my writing. I try to be hopeful, yet I write behind a veil… afraid. There are days when time passes and I do feel hopeful, then there are days when I feel lost… it is the way…. it is my way… Being lost then found by small traces of hope… somewhere in my subconscious I tell myself… there is hope, you are more than you know… 


I sit here and wonder, as always… I have an ache in my chest. I try not to describe this in my poetry, in my writing… I do not wish to hide this tonight… I will not be afraid. There are times when I wish I had died as a child. As I should have, as I would have… This ache, is sadness… it is not for myself, nor for my life… it is for what is missing.  This ache is a void… it reaches deep within… from my chest to the deepest parts of my stomach… then it pulls deeper and higher… to my soul… away from my mind… My mind can always calm my fears, yet this ache is drawn so deep, it can not sleep… it will not leave… it is awake… it is my soul.

If the soul exists… if it can be torn… if it can be damaged… how can it be made whole? How can I feel this old so young? How can I feel this emptiness inside? How can I describe this? I am what I am… I have what I need. I have the love of others, I have the love for myself. I feel proud of who I am… Yet I know I can always hide within… I always have… I feel secure in this knowledge. I wish I could rest. 


I sit here and dream, as always… I dream the most beautiful dreams… this is where the ache began… and this is where it shall live for eternity… in my dreams… yet my dream is my reluctant reality… reluctance is alive with the fear that it is just a dream… this is my ache, this is my greatest fear… yet is it?

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, The Higher Pantheism

I can hide no longer from my truth. I am what I am, I can not hide any longer. I yearn and ache for things that can not be. This heaviness, this ache… is my reality… I do not do this justice, this description… for this hollow, this melancholy… this is my acceptance. I accept, I shall not wait for my dreams. I shall live for tomorrow… I shall take this reality to my dreams and inquire… I shall share this truth with my soul and listen… I accept and I shall be patient… for what else can I be? What else can I be when I ask for so much? Patience… Acceptance… Faith


These are my thoughts…I do not wish to hide tonight… nor any longer… I wish to see myself again… I have lived with this pain for so long… I wonder how am I sill here… there is some purpose… patience…


I move through the fog

Listening through the heavy mist

Blinded by my sight

Struck by my heart

The trees are bare

They hold the air

Accepting the melancholy

Anticipating the release

The fog is quiet

When the mind is not


It is time