Though I’m not quite sure why. Perhaps it is that this unbarring darkness within me is just ever so briefly quenched and thus he’s gone somewhere else for the moment, his absence having left me feeling dizzy with freedom.
The scene outside is blurred and distorted by translucent whispers of gray. The trees are every color of warmth and though shrouded, they are there nonetheless, smiling softly behind the dull pane of fog.
And then of the past and all that has brought me here: gliding through the dark to a home warm and inviting. How blessed I am! For even in my silent spells of melancholy and detestable moments of doubt, somewhere deep down I’m aware that this time here is special. I’m fulfilling some larger purpose and in doing so, my life has gained some intelligible weight that I never felt it had before.
Perhaps this unnatural tenderness, this simple love and forgiveness I feel for everything (yes, even myself!) is limited to these few words I can quickly pin down. But either way, for these brief moments of exceptional clarity, i’m indebted in gratitude. I yearn to embrace this bliss, to pluck just a small bloom from it, one that I could gingerly place somewhere safe in the sunshine, with an open window nearby. To somehow find it within me to nurture and cherish it. Perhaps then, even when the dark obscurity that my soul prefers, returns, ripping everything within me, smothering me in familiar disquietude, the fragrance of this single blossom will keep me anchored in the truth.
The truth that is that I am someone. Someone other than the words that escape me or actions that seem to invariably define me. Someone more than a noxious self-infliction of misery. Someone with more value than I am often capable of believing.
That I am someone with meaning.
