The Gathering Storm
A funny thing it is facing a storm alone... A disconcerting array of scattered thoughts and solitary emotions exacerbated by the accompanying weight of loneliness. The moist, warm winds a fragile comfort soothing to the touch, but with the subtle warning of the rage which will inevitably follow despite your hearts intentions or whether you have done right or wrong.
Loneliness itself is a storm... one which inflicts us all from time to time. Something we cannot avoid, but one we all try our best to detour or weather against, when we cannot. But how will each of us choose to do so?. By what choices will we combat such a storm, so precariously influenced within our own perceptions?. Today, and often, I face that storm...
A black unicorn is alone, save the surreal presence of his own thoughts. So long have I hidden myself in the recollections and perceptions of my own mind that I no longer know my way within this stormy wood. I no longer know which way to call out in a world where most voices I have known have vanished, ran away, been pushed back by my own stubbornness, or simply drifted away of their own accord. Where might I go to find a gentle voice with the compassion and sincere care to notice the torrent beneath a deceptively calm, ebony hide?. Or better yet, what do we do when we lose faith in our own ability to find and trust those whom would otherwise be close to us in those times of need?.
I wonder... What choices will I make with the gathering storm before me... Will I find the courage to step beyond the confinements of my own perceptions, or do I trust to luck and the hope that someone may instead stumble upon me and lead me to shelter?...
The air is so warm and moist....
I see the storm....
Loneliness itself is a storm... one which inflicts us all from time to time. Something we cannot avoid, but one we all try our best to detour or weather against, when we cannot. But how will each of us choose to do so?. By what choices will we combat such a storm, so precariously influenced within our own perceptions?. Today, and often, I face that storm...
A black unicorn is alone, save the surreal presence of his own thoughts. So long have I hidden myself in the recollections and perceptions of my own mind that I no longer know my way within this stormy wood. I no longer know which way to call out in a world where most voices I have known have vanished, ran away, been pushed back by my own stubbornness, or simply drifted away of their own accord. Where might I go to find a gentle voice with the compassion and sincere care to notice the torrent beneath a deceptively calm, ebony hide?. Or better yet, what do we do when we lose faith in our own ability to find and trust those whom would otherwise be close to us in those times of need?.
I wonder... What choices will I make with the gathering storm before me... Will I find the courage to step beyond the confinements of my own perceptions, or do I trust to luck and the hope that someone may instead stumble upon me and lead me to shelter?...
The air is so warm and moist....
I see the storm....