Another response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Weaving the Threads.”
I can feel myself losing sight of a long forgotten dream. The child in minds eye is no longer one of grace and innocent being. The world has fallen into chaos, spinning off of its axis; tossing our lives every which way. We’ve lost control. Our fingers grasping at nothing but straws and thinner than thin air. We’ve come undone. We can no longer describe ourselves as irrevocably unbroken. Our hearts are falling to our feet; in fleeting after fleeting piece. We are slipping between the earth torn cracks; fissuring on the glass of this already shattered world.
I am splintering into myself. Out of myself. Away from myself.
“Show me your soul,” the darkness begs. The shadows loom up behind me, threatening, promising to fully and completely consume me. At the very last second, it ebbs away like the moon possessed ocean, receding towards the edge of this world.
Wading through the broken hearts and war-torn souls, through the tear stained eyes and pitfall stomachs, we find ourselves, not in a ocean of despair, but on an island of vengeful hope.
The dreams come to me not behind closes eyelids but through pupils exposed to effervescent light and pitch worthy, violent white noise. I find myself exposed to the thoughts but not feelings of others and wonder just what lies beneath the surface. Despair, diligence and disgrace.
I imagine that this place in time is in an ever spinning standstill. The surrounding world one of colorful black and white. I wish for things my heart cannot see. The feeling is there but never fully formed.
-You can find my first response to this writing prompt here