The Time has Come…

Today I am but a grain of sand in this vast expanse of time. I feel desolate, destroyed, bit by bit, inch by inch, atom by atom. What seemed to be once a resilient force against the ravaging tides is now dust.

I am smoke, the very truth of my existence laughs at me as I try to comprehend the shape of my being. Those with whom I once placed my trust in, those that I felt privileged to be amongst, have changed their faces. Chewing savagely into my skin, my body, my soul, I continue to watch in silence. So strong is the hope that things will change that I have refused myself the right to protest and protect.

As my organs are torn apart from each other, I watch, in absolute silence and horror. The rage inside me mounts with every passing second. Knowing that any cry of resistance will be futile, I hope to maintain my state, while living, till a Samaritan soul passes by.

The question is, how do I know that my saviour has not been infested with this venom. The only option for me is to wait and see. All I can hope is to come out of this mixed up ball of yarn, just that the yarn is now barbed wire, tipped with poison all throughout.

I am choking, silently, within my own soul. My pain cannot be seen, except fort those that wish too open their eyes, minds and hearts to the surrounding world.

Even as I type this, I feel the poison creeping into my system, asphyxiating the very roots of my origin. Such is the state of senselessness around me that even if anyone reads this memoir of agony, hoping for a reaction would be extremely optimistic. The fact is who in his right mind would care to read this? Of course any one can read anything, per-se, but how many people actually read something, with all intention to understand the purpose of a written line. How many long to understand the depth of a single expressed emotion? How many see more dimensions than one in the realm of expression? We can all appreciate art because it decorates our walls, but do we really understand or see the tears of the artist as he decorates his canvas with them?

I am still waiting, and I know that it will be long, much longer than I think, much longer than you can imagine. In pain, a moment takes eons, and in minutes, the world, as we know it, can come into existence, and then annihilate itself. I, on the other hand, have more than a lifetime to wait for. How many macrocosms will walk the path of birth, evolve, thrive and end in front of my very eyes, I have yet to see.