Poems are stuck in me, my chest like a clogged pipe filled with words.
I go to write but my words sicken me, coming out ugly and distorted. Everything that held me together is now meaningless.
I hold desperately on to all things that were safe harbour before, yet I find no comfort in that familiarity. Places where once was belonging, now filled with people spitting out words – god light consciousness. Words thrown like cheap bait, overused and devoid of any substance.
I’m meant to feel something, I so desperately want to feel something, the exhilarating power of Self, to feel my body is mine and filled with presence. I feel nothing. Saturated with too much god and light from their shallow mouths, looking for something in old places that cannot be found there anymore.
I dance with them anyway, yet my moves are not my own. I don’t recognise the shape of my hands. I hear through my skin yet I feel nothing. There was so much joy here, I felt here, I felt full here. I seek, almost madly, to re-create re-construct re-build. I feel nothing and nothing fills me up like dark smoke. I don’t want to dissolve like this, I hold on to a thread, to anything that’s left.
I am being called to surrender all the god and light and consciousness I gathered in me. God is not cheap bait, your spurious light has no substance.
Called to surrender all constructs I built around me. To surrender what was once safe. I am no longer that, or this. To accept this is nothing more than complete disintegration of all.
This uncertainty frightens me, this melting of walls, this slow dissolving of every Thing that was safe to me, that defined me, that I belonged to. Yet, I have no choice, but allowing it. Palms up in full surrender, saying i don’t know who i am anymore.
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