Dazed, confused and other musings........
Like a stealth fog creeping into sunshine, silence stalks, threatening to continue its perpetual torture of my sanity. Heavy laden, my mind searches for solutions and instead finds bitter agony and seering jealousy. Just when I think I can finally breathe, rest my weariness in optimism, the cycle repeats itself and I sucumb, drowing in misunderstandings and isolation.
I want to get lost completely in Chagall, to find my wedding veil the center of my own life's portrait. Instead, I feel the red and black swirls of Munich's "The Scream" seduce and capture me, hauntingly whispering, "you will never get out."
When passion and dedication become the chains of despair, what then? How to reconcile a character trait to its disruptive foundations........my mind swirls around so many possibilities, and in complete exhaustion, I want to curl into a world of my own understanding, of my own making. No longer do I wish to be a mere visitor in the lives of others. The "psychological shrapnel" pierces my skin and draws blood. I faint at the sight of blood.
I think of her often, the sprite of girl with flowing blonde hair and big blue eyes. I miss her.........I long to sit in the safety of innocense and just enjoy the sound of the grasshoppers and birds around us. Feeling her hand in mine, she whispers in my ear, "weep no more, my friend......enjoy the sunshine".
Like a stealth fog creeping into sunshine, silence stalks, threatening to continue its perpetual torture of my sanity. Heavy laden, my mind searches for solutions and instead finds bitter agony and seering jealousy. Just when I think I can finally breathe, rest my weariness in optimism, the cycle repeats itself and I sucumb, drowing in misunderstandings and isolation.
I want to get lost completely in Chagall, to find my wedding veil the center of my own life's portrait. Instead, I feel the red and black swirls of Munich's "The Scream" seduce and capture me, hauntingly whispering, "you will never get out."
When passion and dedication become the chains of despair, what then? How to reconcile a character trait to its disruptive foundations........my mind swirls around so many possibilities, and in complete exhaustion, I want to curl into a world of my own understanding, of my own making. No longer do I wish to be a mere visitor in the lives of others. The "psychological shrapnel" pierces my skin and draws blood. I faint at the sight of blood.
I think of her often, the sprite of girl with flowing blonde hair and big blue eyes. I miss her.........I long to sit in the safety of innocense and just enjoy the sound of the grasshoppers and birds around us. Feeling her hand in mine, she whispers in my ear, "weep no more, my friend......enjoy the sunshine".
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