An Abecedarian

A life's worth of idioms,

but still true wisdom eludes me.

Cart before the horse;

depicts what I have always done, rushing

expediting anachronisms and anomalies. Thinking it would usher in the life I expected, the one I deserved.

Fallacies make their home in my mind and

grief envelops my identity, although from the outside, I am a fortress, carefully constructed - impenetrable.

How did I end up here? A bundle of cliches and platitudes.

I used to dream of the future with shining light, fairy tale endings, and stepping into my power. Now my days are filled with -

jargon, jarring voices speaking on matters, as if they mattered, as if we should be fixated on these things as we near the grave.

Knowledge and wisdom elude them and me too.

Lamentations are the only songs I know how to sing, although

mirth and unspeakable joy is what I long for. I clothe myself with

neutrality and apathy, so that I don't have to face the

odyssey of my life and the realization that it is simultaneously everything and nothing I thought it would be.

Purpose and passion have abandoned me and shamefully I

question God's creation of me.

Reality is too raw to face and I barely find rest in the

silence that envelops me, the silence that was once a most treasured friend.

Truthfully, I question if I was meant to ponder that vastness of the

universe and the comic brevity of life, plans, and desires. But my mind mind is ever eager to determine why instead of the promises that it would be

vibrant, vivid, and voluptuous, I have found instead found a desolate

world filled with despair and sadness, that irritatingly eclipses my own. I am forever a

Xenos, a stranger to joy. I pray and

yearn for a buoy to preserve me while I pass through the tidal waves of these thoughts and wait

zealously, for a genesis or an end.