Crying or laughing they all feel the same at this time. There is not much that my senses can separate. Rise above and wave goodnight, the darkness kissed my cheek as I departed. I tip my hat and say my goodbyes. Farwell…
There is a deep place that I sometimes go. I usually do not ask to be taken there, but it welcomes me with its cold arms and still air. It is not lit very well, and tends to get darker as I visit. Sometimes I feel myself reaching to leave, and the exit runs from me not wanting me to go. It has a familiar smell, and it feels like I have been coming here since I was a child. The feeling is comfort, like an old sweater that you throw on to sit on a couch and watch your favorite movie. It gets so dark that I can no longer see. The cold takes over the comfort,or is it that I realize it was never comfortable but just familiar. Loneliness envelopes the senses and where I once would reach to escape I can no longer recognize as my way out. Closing my eyes takes me deeper and the silence becomes deafening. I can feel the cold air and warm breathe create condensation with drops of water upon my face. Seeing the bad choice I made to return to this place makes it harder to leave. Realizing it wasn’t a choice to come here at all makes the exit light illuminate. Feeling the water drip more steadily now, and becoming aware that the water is my tears brings me strength to rise up. Grabbing my life and rising up to move forward to that red blinking exit sign and hearing in my head this way to happiness. My hand on the cold doorknob, I turn to look and ask if this place is so bad after all? It is mine and it is safe. I open the door to newness and the light of a new day. Rise up and do not let depression be your friend I told myself. The first step is the hardest, but it is also your first step.
Everything has a place in your life. Some are ahead of you, some are behind and there are those things that are besides you today making your life what it is daily. How do we determine what stays and what must go? Do we let what is no good fall on its own like a piece of fruit that has gone bad on a tree? Will that which has passed its time in our lives, let go and blow away like the dandelion seed? What if we just worry about nurturing that which thrives, grows and uplifts our being? What if we do not worry about what needs to be pruned, but water and speak life to what keeps us living? Cherish the great and do not worry about what does not give back to you! Live!
There is often times my eyes do not see
No matter how bright the light ahead may be
Holding my hand will only lead the way
It is my heart that must change and make the choice to stay
Telling me how and never letting me learn
I have come to a dark place now I burn
You can not baby or cottle no matter how bad you may feel
A bump a bruise will only teach rather then kill
Make a choice to let go and fly away to the sea
There is ofter times my eyes do not see