By Tony DeLorger © 2013
Why must my torture be so acute,
so gut-wrenching and malevolent,
the incessant struggle between reason and darkness,
between reality and emotion.
I cannot forsake my intellect by submission,
but cannot ignore the feelings of despair
and a mind without foreseeable future,
impaled upon a path so delicate in expression,
it teeters on the cusp of creativity and the abyss.
The fires burn within rather than below,
and torment me with endless passion,
twisting reality into a jagged edged hell,
a spectrum within Dante's delight,
the cruelty of antagonistic dreams turned reality,
and scarring an open and vulnerable heart.
I crave balance, stability and deliverance,
yet the more knowledge I acquire the more intense the suffering,
and the more of a pariah I become, in self-defence,
the fires contained within my soul, as to not singe another,
not affect a layman from the soul of a sensitive.
Bewildered I remain, that I engage these demons,
be ruled by the extremes of secrets, worldly realities,
yet my mind cannot overcome that input,
those whispers of often harsh and shocking truths,
echoing within the past, present and future.
I am a slave to this struggle, bound by my soul,
to understand that which I wish not,
and open enough to feel every prick, gash and blood letting,
that a soul can survive in this our tenuous life,
paying for every question, and answer,
that finds my thoughts in stark irrefutable truth.
Bless this torturous cusp of division,
for the abyss offers nothing at all,
and I, amid all the suffering and pain of awareness,
wish that in comparison,
but perhaps with a duller blade.
Life is a journey, not a destination, and we must accept this journey no matter what. What we experience both good and bad has no relevance to morality or any judgement, rather a path of learning designed to deliver us to a higher consciousness.
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