Updated: Nov 13, 2021
The detachment from the self
My human inclinations
No longer addressed.
A creature I have become,
With only one aim
I journey forward.
The long lost treasures of the past
I am hunting
Looking for a passage to my salvation
Looking for a route to guide me home.
To the northern star,
My fixed point.
To the lighthouse,
I am a creature of disfigurations
Lost and alone
On the shore
Where the rigorous wind penetrates the marrow
But I am unfeeling.
Where does the wind blow?
I am unknowing.
They say ignorance is bliss,
But to what extent?
Stranded I am.
My individual parts scattered in the vast expanse of the sea.
Where is the hope if parts of me have become lost forever?
This disrupted mind
Has been subject to the constant battering of convoluted thoughts.
Spiraling left and right
Unstable and insecure
Exclaiming in a hubbub of “what could have been” (T.s Eliot)
And in a constant state of fear
Of making the wrong decision
So that the mind is in a constant battle
Pulled on by different ends of the rope
Where Jekyll and Hyde hold on to each extension
These monsters that dwell in the mansion of my mind
Are the most wicked and vile.
They know no bounds
They have exceeded every limit
Ungoverned despite their base endeavors
Engaging in violent demonstrations
Rebellious and unrestrained
There is no quelling the disruptions
Of these ungoverned thoughts
But only to accept
In which we found ourselves plunged in.