Diary Of A Fallen

Atoms,

Sensations,

Space,

Sound,

Light,

Air,

Still themselves.

Piece of flesh floating under the sun,

With inner nothing-self.

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Time arises,

But spine bends,

Time reminds, but the Will to stand ceases.

Illusion of time,

Or illusion of self,

Caught up in a crossfire of perturbed mind and painful mine.

Silent meteors rip through and through the body,

The heart has craters the moon would be shy of.

The mind silenced like life after an extinction,

A loss survives,

One that the battled warrior sits with, nourishes and wears like the armour that shines and reflects all truth.

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Everything on the mind,

Yet the unknown surrounds it.

What appears in consciousness are mere shadows.

Seeing the light slowly disappear,

Fear engulfs, eyes tear up.

The luminosity of life becomes only an interval before the dark abyss of where we came from and where will end up.

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Alone with your breath but accompanied by the memories that were whole of you.

Laying on a soft cushion but the walls pressing in hard.

There is a lifetime in a tick of a clock’s hand,

The kind of lifetime you’d know if you learned to lose something you love and watch it behind your closed eyes as it breathes the life into you while also leaving you breathless till you die a thousand deaths.

One day at a time,

One hour at a time,

Sometimes one minute at a time,

The body is a black hole and no time or space passes through.

---

In a place far away,

A fallen warriors sits with an idyllic feline.

Gargantuan dark clouds come contrasting his pale skin,

The colours only remain in the flames of surrender and grief.

The armour took the scars,

But the wounds made their way to the heart.

Helmet off,

A quiet solitude on,

Calm your heart, cause it’s okay to be lost.

Hurt and defeat are pointier than the sword,

Heavy is the love that weighs your tears to the ground.

The grass soaking beneath,

Feels colder than a grave.

Rekindle in the ashes of the heart,

There’s a rare kindness waiting for you there.

Rest now fallen warrior, for the journey ahead.

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Conditioned to turn away from suffering,

Turning to distract themselves going into the strange world, with strange bodies to suffice the ego.

To numb the pain,

To drown it in external voices,

To silence it,

To busy it, push it aside.

Don’t let it go too soon my dear,

Let it deep within,

Let it guide you,

Introduce you to the wisdom you didn’t know you had in you.

Let it tear down and rebuild hthe fabric of every good that you can ever do,

For you and for them, every where you go.

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Tender touches,

Kind gazes,

Light butterfly kisses,

The harder you love, the harder you grieve.

The deeper the pain, the deeper the love you have always to give.

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Remember what Huxley said, ‘Lightly child, lightly. Feel lightly even though you feel everything deeply.’

Even when everyday stream of tears gushing down your face,

Lightly, lightly.

Even when every hour is sinking your heart,

Lightly, lightly.

Even when every second you die,

Go lightly, child.

Learning to feel the pain softly, for I’m only healed because of my wounds.

Unlearning the impulse for turning away from suffering, for I’m only stronger because of my anguish.

Relearning to be feel lightly, for I’m only beautiful because of my brokenness.

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Johansen said,

‘For my darkness is mine to face,

My pain is mine to feel,

And my wounds are mine to heal.

But will you sit with me here, while I courageously show up for it all, my dear?’

So, will you… hold my hand for a little while,

So I can rest.

Will you… will you give me your hand,

So I can calm my chest.

Will you.. will you sit in front of me again,

So I can see the sun rise again.

Will you… will you be present,

Till the sun and moon find each other in the sky again.

So, will you hold my hand until I return again?