The Travels of Barren Darkness
These heavy lethargic waves hold me breathless with each moment. My shore appears further and further as I struggle to swim myself to its hold. Many speak of this feeling as a haze, a dark cloud strangling their thoughts till they cease the want to think. Leaving them barren to guilt, feasting on sadness as if that is all there is to set upon their plate.
Their tears fall with each meal and hydration of the soul becomes forgotten. Truthfully, I believe many, such as myself, find a strange comfort in this distant field of sorrow. We enjoy the encrusted trees that wilt to even the slightest breeze. We find an odd beauty to the screaming of soils.
The iridescent lighting holds us mesmerized. The moon gazed in the infestation of darkness delights our creative will to build something from it.
Though we may plunge to the deepest caves of this grievous land. We are capable of the rare pleasure to climb back up.
From our chaotic and depressant need to fall, we find tools that teach us, that give us thought. But few are competent in finding the light again. For if one does not touch the light, one becomes engrossed in the filth of darkness like flesh to disease. They become but a spirit of hollow dwelling.
Living in hells agony, never to find themselves above the roots of the trees. Contorting their bodies in the most unholiest of ways, so that they may fit through the cracks of their afflictions. Losing themselves more and more as they dare venture too far, too deep. They became the victims of their curiosity.
For I believe many decline to these empty lands in hope for an escape. They become like I, a miserable man in search for quiet. For the wish to never see the existence of man again. But many, do not slump easily to the will of lies. Many crumble, but only to rebuild themselves.
They have learned that in the travels to suffering. One must be careful where they lay to rest and what voices they welcome. They must be prepared for the suffering that lives within these abandoned lands. For one is only omitted passage if they travel alone.
For no other can truly understand another's pain. And one must learn from these wretched lands, that limits are but a concept of man.
I myself, though glazed in misery, I venture to my darkness but with lessons of the past. I find what I need and I move on. I pluck the flower that muses my heart and I press forward. For I know all too well what this riddled land of suffering can do, to even the strongest of minds.
I am far from the end of my journey, but I shall not let this glazed body of misery, be the end of my faithful soul. For as long as their breath in me, I shall keep going.
Thank you for reading. If you are struggling with anything, please keep pushing, as long as you are breathing. You still have a chance to make it through what ever it may be that is hurting you.
When was the last time you lent a hand to a struggling friend or stranger?
Looking for more writings like this? A Man's Traveled Heart
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