And so it went...

When you know that the simplest description is the one you don’t think about

If only this ringing which surrounds me and cuts through the sky like lightning and pain and all things which we fear not just because of their reality, but also because of their speed, would slow and clear and know that if only they slowed, we would fear them so much less, because such things move quickly enough for us to know they are not within our control. But it cuts so deep. I tremble with tears balancing by my eyelids and quivering, as I quiver too, and place a test upon the capability of my muscles to tremble also, and I grit my teeth as I tremble with an anger which is more sad to look at than to fear – it’s not something we should fear at all, apart from the sobering fact that it could be felt in us one day.

I stop gritting my teeth though, and exhale, and look around so lost and sad and I don’t know what I see, how can I? And I cry though, still – how can we not? It’s so easy and it spins us into such a delirium and we forget about all things, even the things we were crying about in the first place.

I feel I know Pain, I see him so often now. He walks alongside me, sometimes ever so gently that I mistaken him for someone else, and at these times I let him know my thoughts. He uses this information like a poisoner seeking to know that element which would work to greatest effect, and oh what an effect he uses the things I tell him. I must be partly to blame then? Aren’t we all? But if ever I see the world and see that it beats so violently with happiness and passion and so much love, then I know that I can live an existence alongside Pain for however long Love asks me to, because it’s all a plan, really – not ever devised by us, but we’ll do, with respects to our parts played in its actualisation that is.

But those muscles which did so well in helping my erupting heart to shake my world, now seem tired with life too, and they let my world collapse on the floor alongside my poor mind which seems to be just by itself down on the concrete, among the dust and the smaller stones which get stuck in the cracks of the floor. But all of me – apart from that part which you hold – all that remains of me, I suppose it’s not much, is now so exhausted and tired and just lies there on the floor. And I feel so sad looking down over myself, that unfortunate being, who is ever so fragile and more so than one would think by just looking. Because inside that head there is a conscious mind fully aware of the tragedy which it is playing a part in. It’s okay, I wish to say, but it’s me already I am speaking to, and I look down upon myself anyway, and I know that it’s okay; but knowing a reality, and realising what it means for you, are two very different things.

Maybe with time? (Exhale)

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