LauraElizaHaynes
To wear a crown of roses,
Is a fragrant thing.
Others sigh at its beauty,
But do not feel the thorns.
Time makes its petals drop,
The perfume is no more.
Exposed are the wounds,
Sore lesions, deep scratches.
Lay it down you fool.
For the dVerse quadrille #141 ‘Crown’ check it out here.
Loss overwhelms the soul.
A matriarch ageing,
A patriarch gone,
Sanctuary eroding.
How relentless is time.
Tearing at stability.
Can hope be found,
In amongst the rubble?
Ruminating
Often it comes
Attempts at self mastery
The Wise can settle
Into the cacophony within
Grasp released
Annihilation ambition put down
In favour of restful awareness
Watching…
Anxiety’s apprehension
Recognising….
Melancholy’s malaise
Realising…
Doubt’s discomfort
Knowing their transience
How they dissolve when left alone
How they grow and morph when probed
Yes I am pondering
Why I secretly covet misery
Fearful of peace
Tetchiness hiding deep sadness,
Nearly overwhelmed.
Melancholy’s pit came close.
But I saw its approach!
It was tempting to jump in.
Its monochrome space,
Is comforting, safe.
But its bleak views,
and the hard climb out,
Stayed my leap.
This week has been a struggle as my mind has been melancholy. I have been gripped before like this and found myself in the ‘pit’, which basically meant putting my existence on pause, which is not as pleasant as it sounds. I have learnt to see the pit approaching and do all I can not to dive in. As it is better, in the long run, to struggle through topside. Than to have to break the miserable thought cycle and muster the energy to climb out. But if you are in the pit right now, I understand and I promise you are not alone.
LauraElizaHaynes 