Enigma

Imagine yourself hiding behind a curtain, waiting until this stage you are stood on lights up, and the curtain parts for everyone to cast their eyes upon you. You've pushed and pushed this moment for as long as you possibly can, but time has now caught up with you. The tick tock, tick tock- every second passing whilst your nerves become miniature balls of ice, thrusting their way through your veins all around your body. Almost like an electric shock. The wait has rendered you jittery. It's time to stop running. This magnificent, gleaming polished stage just splaying out under your feet. Close your eyes and really picture it- standing, peering out, peeking between the gap of the curtains into the silent dark minefield. What is behind a mere piece of fabric that is making you cower? An arch enemy. Serial psychopath. Clowns. Darkness. Spiders. Love. Liars. Skeletons of a very old and dusty closet perhaps? Wasted time. Or the fear of time catching up with you...

Rooted deeply within us all, at the very core of our beings- there is this delicate ability to grasp, take charge and mould fear into something feasible. Most of us have been doing this throughout our lifetime unknowingly. This notion is truly delectable for those who are looking for something beyond the ordinary.

Fear has the dexterity to destroy hope, happiness, comfort and love. It will illegally occupy your mind, settle, and create a delightful chaos on its destructive path. It is important to be the horizon of your very own sunset.

Fear will collide with you over a million times. It will keep you chained to your past demons. Narrow your perspective. Fail you. Hinder your climb. It pushes you to live with your eyes closed. At the same time it can be a blessing in disguise which allows you to shatter the glass ceiling, in order to awaken. Awaken, breathe, and dance through the epiphany which makes you realise that being a drop in an ocean of greatness, is not so bad after all.

People who are able to let go of fear are those with a little rebel in them. They have mixed their gentleness with diluted madness.

Life would be mundane if we were all born incapable of feeling fear. Without fear, we would not be able to romanticise conclusions, excel in brilliance individually, relish over the climax to whatever situation right after fear presents itself naturally in its full glory. Being incapable of feeling fear, would diminish innocence. In a world with no fear, the whispers of the wind would be alien to us.

Fear can either haunt you to the point of self-destruction, where it can tend to exhaust your glimmer- or release you into the wild as a newly born beautiful soul. You will feel lost for a little while as fear vanquishes to return another time, yet what makes you that bit more beautiful is not knowing how to find yourself again. Allowing another to help you make sense of yourself. Empty, serene shores or hectic playgrounds, you decide which one you prefer.

The heart should not worry. Fear is but a feeling. They are only temporary, feelings, are they not? So laugh a little more, care a little less. Look deep into the darkness and do not be afraid if the stars brightness do not make sense to you. The best kind of fears begin with a misunderstood mess.

Let fear tarnish your mind. Let it smirk with its maturity at you, swallow you with aggression, crush your soul into pieces and leave you to become an innocent paradox. Let fear kiss you in a tongue you cannot comprehend.

Yes, it's getting late but do run away with me. Let us be caught up in each others misty webs. Let us explore each others minds and I promise, you will find yourself. Will you bring fear, or leave it behind this time around?

S.K.

My nights are restless, in the most comforting way. The drowsy stupor, is to me what a lioness is to her cub- protection, of the most lethal kind. Slithering its way into every vein that runs through my body. Electrifying, and mind numbingly painful simultaneously.

The clock strikes 12. The mind begins to unravel, hungry for the seeds that keep it alive. Oh how it consumes those seeds, how it blooms once each seed has been planted. How does a fragile mind manage to cope under the pressure of the thoughts it has accumulated? Let me explain. These words that spill out of me, these hands which will pick up a pen and simply write without hesitating. I fear for those who do not caress the pages of a worn book, for those who do not read written art and simply feel exhilarated over the notion that words can be written exactly how you feel in such a beautiful manner. That they can be read over and over again, allowing them to sink right into your soul for that blissful relief.

Your mind trudges on, in the darkness that envelopes it. Erect and aware as a deer that is being preyed upon. It's an eerie quiet. The pitch black for a tortured mind, is the sole reason it will continue to strive to stay alert until it sees the light again.

On this strenuous path, the mind hunts for that glow. At times, throughout the day- it will feel as if progress has been made. Tiny warm sparks here and there as the morning morphs into afternoon, giving the illusion that tonight your mind will be inactive. In fact you even implore yourself to see if this is true, but you are brought back to a standstill with no answer. Draw the curtains once more before laying to rest, you do not have the answers just yet.

Around 3am, you realise your struggle is futile. The strange awakening deep inside you away from your mind altogether occurs, that hope you can't seem to banish. That silly, pathetic, hope. That infuriating hope, that something will change. You climb in an attempt to find another way, to reach your destination quicker. You fall, and clamber to try again.

The emergent horizon is almost near.

The mind now twists and writhes in pain. Struggling to find its place at this time. Vehemently trying to grasp at something long gone, that lost forgotten peace it harvested when it had found a tranquil spot. Where had it gone now? Can such a beautiful nostalgia ever present itself without the anguish? Solitary confinement in a place that was once so comfortable to you.

The warmth of the glow has slowly started seeping into your mind. You crawl on, urging all the while for it to grow and engulf you. You shiver, and allow pain to enter the mind raw. You are able to take the sudden attack as you know it is nearly all over. Dawn is about to break, the end is nigh. You crave that tranquility. Like warm honey as a child, it will be sweet.

Just as the sky stains a glorious shell pink, you do not see but feel the dull orange swirl just behind the pink- the rays blinking through your blinds, and dancing as the colours mix in the sky on top of your body. The light continues to travel through to slither inside you reaching nerve endings and instantly lulling your mind into an infants sleep. The silence outside is deafening. As the sky continues to sing to the earth, the birds begin their melody to you. Their harmonies signalling to you that dawn has broken.

S.K.