It starts like every other day.
Golden sunlight filtering through the curtains,
the blinding glory of another night survived.
Smooth sailing seas ahead, nothing quite out of place.
Yet, a little niggling sensation in the far corner of my mind;
an inkling of a doubt that begins to swirl up,
slowly grabbing at the edges of my consciousness.
Up and up it builds its castle of shadows.
‘Please,’ I pray, ‘Not this. Not again.’
Before the next breath is drawn, everything topples.
The castle turns to swirling smog,
its debris piercing the fragile peace.
Shattered, bruised, my ego lays bare.
Vulnerable, I cry for mercy.
‘Ask of whom?’ sneers a voice on the inside.
‘Who shall forgive you but you?’
‘Who shall protect you from you…
And just like that, it’s over.
The clouds of storm begin to waft away,
leaving in their wake a hollow, meaningless carcass.
The sun’s rays – now dulled by the density of destruction –
once again begin to build what was fallen;
once again try to mend what was broken.
Blessed is he who knows not how it feels
to live a duality of being.
Watercolours on paper.