Spiraling Truth

Smile. Now. Be calm. Bring balance. I know morals, what’s right from what’s wrong. Commit to acceptance, excellence didn’t work. I’ll force myself to understand the meaning of soul. The world needs perfection, I’ll anchor myself there. I’ve found purpose in order.

It feels like the mortal coil was bound for my presence; there’s so much to fix. I can have it all. I take it all. I’m limitless.

I leap into physics. That is my home, where proof resides and truth cannot hide. Peers with minds of every size. I’m in awe of the universe, dark matter, and light. Meaning cannot resist the fight of my pursuit. I’ll work, I’ll learn, I’ll finally live through each step as a breath, a hum, a vibration in the soul of the world. I’m journeying through spacetime untold. It’s me. I’m it. This is the story of how a beautiful life begins. I see stars and speak visions into existence. I’m sold on the universal truth of persistence.

Order Is Purpose Until The Cracks Appear

Patch. Suppress. Stretch time.

Stitch. Repress. Dreams never die.

Until they do, because that’s the truth and the inescapable proof of an event horizon created by the despairing doom in youth.

The order will fix it. It’s fine. She’s mine. She has my back, but I need a new plan of attack.

Cling to the routine. Take heed from the backseat, because if no one can see, then no one can help, and to ask for help is to admit defeat. It’s a call to the non-local consciousness of all. That’s not what I need. I push myself down. Speak for myself, not as myself. Here is my truth: stay small and keep clean. Others are hurting too, and you can’t have it all. Let the order reside, and all will be fine.

F

A

L

L

What is happening?

I can’t tell up from down?

Where is the ground?

Who taught you to be this way?

Why can’t the truth be found?

The Chaotic Spiral Of Ending & Beginnings

Gracious giving.

Never living.

Surrounded by chaos,

As inevitable bidding.

Chaos begins as it ends, in a spiral of truth that feels like everlasting ruin. With every light switch I repeatedly flip, I tell chaos, “You are not welcome here.” With every repetitive hand wash, because the knob’s ache demanded perfect position, I scream at chaos, “YOU WERE NEVER WELCOME HERE.” Every compulsion begins to serve the chaos. Feed the chaos as it swallows me whole. I’m in a cataclysmic chasm of orderless confusion, begging for one more chance at precision, one more chance at revision.

Crying for order into the abyss, fearful to return where it all began. I recoil as chaos gently caresses my lower back and softly whispers, “You’re scared. Good. That means you’re standing right at the edge of something real. Let’s name it clearly.” I open my eyes, tears a waterfall of grief, “You’re scared of building the life you actually want, because it’s uncharted territory."

My shoulders drop as chaos hums again, "You’ve been surviving with brilliance. But thriving? That requires trusting yourself fully, and you’ve only begun to flirt with that idea.”

Authenticity leaks from my eyes for the first time in my life as I realize order was always a coping mechanism created to serve. My fear. My pain. The didactic refrain of momentary gain. In that moment, the paradox of it all sings the harmony that chaos is my order. I'm not broken, I long in two directions at once.

I am the morning hush and midnight howl.

I am dawn’s clarity and dusk’s seduction.

My ache is wanting to be fully alive in both, while bound to a nervous system that can’t split itself across light and shadow. As the truth unfolds, I choose what serves me and what I serve.

I resign from order.