Six years gone by; been awhile. A group dispersed across the globe; lost a little. A door left open; desolate in the desert. No path direct ahead in which to bear my barren steps. A heart left gazing towards the open sea. I feel as though the hour glass of my soul lies in detainment. Anxiously awaiting my hand to turn its hyperbolic cage; resuscitating it from its stagnant state.
Facing in detached reverence the reflection of my dreams and current reality, I stand here fighting every urge to flee. I’ve cheated time and it has finally caught up to me—now tearing at my eyes to claim all that I stole so long ago. Forcing me to see the wasteful wake I have thus forged, and the despondency of my life’s dereliction. Surveying the solemn cells of my past memories knits together a discordant tapestry of tragedy.
The hope I’ve long longed for listlessly lies in between the cracks that run through this fractured form.
I was never meant to stay here.
I’m afraid to move forward into the unknown.
I’ve sat still in this stagnant theatre of my soul. Each burgeoning breath growing wearier as I struggle to keep open my weighty eyes to the growing dim that shrouds my heart.
I just want to know that in the end, when the gauntlet was thrown down, I reached out to take hold. That when my lip split open on the first punch thrown, I sucked it in and put my hands back up. That when the ground greeted my broken cheek as a pillow, my eyes still splayed wide. That I gritted my loosening teeth and sweetly sucked in one more nasally breath, to push myself up to my full height for one last go. That I let loose a final roar from the aphotic abyss within—shaking the foundations of my own soul before the curtain of the melancholy flood comes forth to claim these lifeless eyes.