If our bodies could house geography,
our terrain would be rough, the edges
serrated by harsh tides of sentiment,
sedimentary remains, in house floods
or the way a photograph imitates life,
we make believe,and study, first hand geology,
second hand earth, shared by lovers
before, touched and…
Easier said, than done.
I let my own pain and fear demobilize and suppress my ability to be human,
To move forward in steady succession rather than two steps forward, one step back,
Glimpsing the future, only to retract.
I wallow in the past, present, and future today.
Drowning in the pain the world inflicts and past pain still lingers,
Leaving me to succumb to its cunningly familiar fingers.
I lay idle in that place of fear, uncertain of anything, lest myself.
Instead of running head down, traipsing, lost in thought,
I need to run head forward, aware, evading mental rot.
Easier said than done.
Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of Hell.
“
| — | Hermann Hesse (via -killerqueen) |
