My world has always been my mind because all too many times, the world around me was too dangerous and frightening. And yet, as I sit here in the dark, I cannot conclude if it was my mind that made my reality frightening or if the variables outside myself contributed to the darkness in my mind. What I conclude is more accurate is that there really is something just outside the periphery of my mind that voraciously putrefies any sense of well-being faster than my intellect can produce.
The feeling of desperation and self-loathing is like a thief that steals the light from inside me. I know when its there and no matter how clearly my mind tells me how beautiful and bright the world is outside or how perfectly charming my life is, it somehow can obliterate all that reason.
And yet, there is someone else who lives inside me. She can be charming and vivacious. And she seems to know what to do. I call upon her to accompany me through the events of my life. But she comes only when she wants to. The brilliance with which she comports herself with people she chooses to love consists of extreme generosity, affection and selflessness. She is someone inside me who seems to be real that despair imprisons all too many times. She loves but fiercely. She feels everything deeply. She passionately wants to experiment with life and yearns to blur the banal boundaries that slays her need to express herself--to create, to discover, to devise. She is easily hurt and when that happens, she can be frighteningly imperial. That is the someone that I slay in order to be 'normal'. She visits me less and less now. And then the darkness sets in.
Those were wonderful days when she would arise. Always she comes with fire and sharpness. We soar together. That's when I feel like I can touch the infinite and my mind races because the window of opportunity is open only for a limited time. I have to move quickly. I feel exuberant and timeless. And then... as fast as she comes, she can also wreak havoc. And I have to pay dearly for her companionship...sometimes the price is much too costly.
She visits me less and less now. Did I already say that? In her stead, anguish. And the loathing begins. And I wait for fire. I wait for her to save me. Time is running out. The wait is paralyzing. Let her come soon.
"I Think Continually of Those Who Were Truly Great"
by Stephen Spender
I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.
What is precious is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.
Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are feted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life
Who wore at their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.
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