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Peace

This image shows a person lacking peace and in acute agony.

“Peace of mind for five minutes, that’s what I crave.” —Alanis Morissette

I’m not at peace with myself,

I told her, I’ve never been,

I don’t know what it is, but

even when I’ve accomplished

something, I’m disturbed,

not just empty but unsettled,

like something antithetical

to divine light, an unholy darkness

has me in its calloused palm,

there are moments

when the seven demons or

the madness or whatever it is,

releases me, and I find clarity,

a soothing lucidity when

carpe diem isn’t something

in the distance, like the brownstone

across the street, but a sympathetic

force that rearranges the contours

of my mind – transforming the

zigzagging patterns into

a symmetrical whole like

Elijah and Moses transfigured,

shining with the light of the sun.

Oh, how I wish for more

of those moments!

I don’t even know if writing helps,

sometimes peace rises like

the elect raptured from the

spaces between the lines

and consumes me, but sometimes

some cosmic horror snakes its

way through the syllables,

tears the fabric of reality

and blinds me with its

inky tendrils, making me relive

the years wasted,

I know you can’t help me, and I hate

burdening you with this,

but listen… please listen.

Photo by Žygimantas Dukauskas on Unsplash

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