Moving Mountains

One more time, one last time.

Time ticks tediously into the winds of insanity.  But all you really want is to hold it somehow still in your hands just long enough to feel it, to own it.  But it slips. Oh, how it slips away and away and away and yet you hold it, waterfalling cascades dancing around you as you turn this way and that to just hold on.

Just hold on.  You wonder why you even try.  But yet you do. The very thought of addiction benumbs your soul and yet out of embers and ashes you peer, wishing desperately to grasp one wisp of yellowed shine.  The dawn of a new day never knocks, or maybe it did and you just didn’t hear it.

Why are you addicted to the insanity of normal?

The demons of normality are beckoning to be your best ally.  Grasp hold of their sickening web and then you can break free to live an enchanted life, to unshackle the slave of your thoughts, break free, just be.  

But you sense you are less than enough.  So just this one time, just this one moment, you shall reject the heart’s earnest cry to move mountains and one more time, just this one more time, you shall remain.  Stay the course, hold your head high, be who they want you to be, who they need you to be.

Being for them breaks who you are.

You need more.

You need heights unsoared and valleys unkempt and struggles more real and yet more ensnaring than you can handle, but the chains of being what they expect are more wretched yet.

Maybe it’s time.  Maybe those demons are really just angels who need their own wings; they cannot fly if they cannot unlatch.  

They can’t control you anymore because . . .

Maybe it is time.

One last time for them, one more last time for you.

And as you fly, they shall also forever flight in the foreground because those who wonder are never really lost.

Those who fight and flight are dancing together on the face of their failures, and you can step in time, join the dance, be alive.  

Because how will you ever know what to believe if you don’t go just this one time.

Just this one time.

Even if you fail.  Even if you crash and burn.  It shall still be beautiful. . .

For you can only ever be a beautiful disaster.