CONFESSIONS OF AN INTROVERT: PART 4

That moment,
When you shut the door,
And it all comes rushing,
torrential, merciless,
Hot and heavy
Bubbling and brimming,
Scolding and steaming.

Argh!
I thrust the towel,
The clothes, the objects,
To the ground!
And an inexplicable fury,
Like a hot coal,
Delicate, dangerous,
Rises to the surface,
Angry at the world!
Angry at life,
Unfair, unseemly.
Do the heavens mock me,
The spirits find jest in my groveling?

Lost in the tousle and tangle,
I plead to Someone,
Look to the azure sky,
Expectantly,
All the same,
And always the same,
Silent,
Torturous in its indifference.
"I beseech thee, speak!"

And for the umpteenth time,
I wave the white banner,
In blatant concession,
No more! Please!
"Thou could'st endure no more!"

Pure, unconcealed, unrefined
Torture!
Rains upon me,
Every morn and night,
Springing to life seeds, weeds
of suff'ring.

When till the calm,
When till the calm I say!

CONFESSIONS OF AN INTROVERT: PART 3

Clouds...
The occasional clouds,
Sweeping above,
In front of me,
Distorting, obscuring the world
Into a grey, isolating
Mass of confusion.
Noises I can hardly render,
Discern.

I'm an island.
Undiscovered, yet disturbed
by the passing storms.

Yearning..
that's all the island does.
Yearning for the
Occasional castaway..
No, not this one,
Sorry, not that.

One to discover the
Paradise within the
Jungle.
But nigh.

I feel an entity,
Pushing me back,
Dragging me away,
Away from everything,
everyone.
Away from life.
Save me, please!

Hot, hot tears,
Held back, burn
My head, My throat,
My heart.

Helpless,
Screaming within,
Someone!
Please.

Am I alone?
A shadow?
A mere presence, that
Was?

That throbbing ache,
Is up again,
Like the ticking of a clock,
Tick tock.

CONFESSIONS OF AN INTROVERT: PART 2

Friends...
Do we really call them that?
Acquaintances...
People we see every day?
I'm really not sure.

I may flash a fake smile,
An impassionate laugh,
A grin, once in a blue moon.

Surrounded... around me
By these indeterminate individuals,
Confusion.... in the sounds, the noises,
Screams, shouts!
Am I in a nursery?
I wonder, one too many times.

I guess I should embrace this,
Break out,
Join the confusion,
The madness,
The Youth.

In problems

We all face problems. No matter how 'nice'
we think we are.
We're never perfectly safe, no matter how
safe we play it.
By virtue of our inherited impurity,
as sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.
And so, on the precipice, the cliff, of concession,
the ever tempting voice whispering, screaming
"But why?"
..revisits us, oh so hauntingly
Oh so sinister.

Right here and now.
I look down and see water..
wish for water..
blue and dark.
To dive in. Engulfed.
..and Kick! Punch! SCREAM!
Release myself.

For on ground I am as a prisoner
bound and restricted.
A silent, slow suffering seeing thee to death.

In water... free, weightless!
And I envy the Neil Armstrongs,
the moonwalkers.

And yet, for the price of physical freedom,
I dance with death!
Suffocation. Discomfort. Cold.
A fast, fear-filled suffering that leads squarely
to the dreaded destination.

And yet, the remedy.. the assured remedy
to all woes
is to enact that very desire;
To let go
To have faith. To fall and to believe
in the Higher Power.
In the (fact) that all things happen for good.

Faith without action is dead. Indeed.
A life of faithlessness
is a life leading to that unwelcome end.

Simply, my words are nought if not applied.

Faith in the Word. Friction from doubt.
A constant tag-of-war in the human conscious.
Yes, even the great have been encumbered,
weighed down by this wrangle.

I pray. I once again look up.
Relentlessly. Constantly. Yearningly.
Yes, faithfully!
For I haven't another choice.

The road. Yes, that's it. The road
that forks at the yellow wood.
One faith. One doubt.

So.. what'll it be sonny?
Self-dependence.. or divine dependence?





 

#_

The time has come. The time is here.
My mind, confused, beset by worries and fears.
Overwhelmed. The world is caving in, the sky is falling.
Herculean would be but an understatement to describe the mammoth task ahead of me.
The time to roll up one's sleeves is... was yesterday.
Today is the time to get down and dirty.
Immersed... swimming in papers and print ..every conceivable character.
To the point of intoxication.
If only, if only I could clutch at a straw.. but where?
Sunday is today.. the sun has indeed taken its queue.. and yet how deceptively!
Propitious at an ominous Time.
Time... if only 'twas on our side... on my side.
Looking up, a note of counsel.
"The time is not when or how... it's now!"
And so today is not but a day to look up at a message on a wall
but to look further up to the heavens. To Him.
The I Am.