Half of my face

This unconscious weight I carry, this unconscious burden, complex, neurosis, whatever it might be called… this heavy uneasiness of being and breathing, blocking the longing of my heart, is slowly becoming visible. It’s slowly lighting up the parts that were ignored for too long.

I am not afraid this time, because I am tired. Tiredness always wins the battle, and probably will win the war too. Tiredness leads me personally to surrender. It has always been my last resting place before letting go.

The fire starts with anger, with a hidden force I never thought possible in me, a frustration and rage that moves me into actions and reactions, into movement, ignoring the still, quiet nature of my pain underneath it all.

I need to explode so that after the fires have been put out, I can cover my grieving soul with the ashes of my experience.

Then, I rest in the solitude that sadness brings me, washing away with its rivers of tears the projected passions I had unleashed. In that dark void of sadness I find the quiet truth.

That I am tired, nothing else.

Tired of this game I play with myself. Tired of ignoring Her, my Soul, who always waits patiently for my embrace. In this endless dance I am still learning; the embrace of my inner world, and the reality of an outside world that crumbles around me. And sustaining it all is my Soul, and the Soul of the World.