Wednesday, 31 December 2008

Head, Heart or Body?

Head, Heart or Body?

My mind is screaming.

My heart is screaming.

My body is screaming.

But it is a silent scream. A scream that I know is there, but can’t hear. A scream that I don’t want to hear. A scream that could easily tear me apart, slowly.

The pain and noise of my heart is constant and brutal. The scream of my mind is everlasting, yet easy to silence. The ache of my body is overcome some days.

I do not want to be here, in this place of misfortune and confusion. This place in which love is constantly held back and forgiveness is given too often. The small things are turned to mountains and what little space there is seems crowded. I don’t want to be here. Not now, when the rivers of muddled up knowledge overflow and the snowflakes of complex ideas turn to blizzards.

Sometimes, when the time is right and the mood is settled, this place is right. It is kind and sunny, a place of joy. The random petals of love and life flitter through the air to land softly on the bed of candyfloss happiness. The darkness is expelled to the fringes of my mind and I am happy – a child, once more undaunted by the challenges of life.

Here, here is where devastation lies. Memories of naïve mistakes and foolish fantasies locked up in a box never to be opened. Represented all too often by less than three, this place is a wasteland. Never explored, a strong pulsating hillside that keeps me alive. A place where no man wishes to tread, for it is dangerous. So dangerous that the inner darkness of the mind filters through and invades when the outside world hurts. I feel it now, the darkness, banging on the doors to the key of my existence. For I live for humanity. And what becomes of humanity when the evil intrudes?

The features of my external parts – they do not scream. Or seem to scream. The blazing fire never dies, never leaves. Changing intensity, it roars and hounds down on mind and soul. But don’t they control it? No, because fire cannot be controlled. It flickers until sparks scorch the inside. Roast away until no energy is enough to over come it.

Which one to have? You must choose one. Choose.

1 comment:

  1. Some very nice imagery here, some great words, some lovely turns of phrase.
    But ... Sometimes the meaning is not clearly communicated, the idea buried in either too many words or a too clever turn of phrase.
    Still ... Really rather good.
    Surprisingly good
    worryingly good
    where does this ability come from one wonders?
    was the milk man a particularly skilled writer perhaps?
    dC

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