Comfort in Chaos

And for a moment it's bliss.

being swept by the intensity of it all

having the strength to be fully present in those moments of chaos,

and not disconnecting from what you feel.

You couldn't if you tried.

But one day you look around and realize

you don't know where you are,

that you gave to much

and forgot you existed.

Which was the point anyway,

you didn't want it to begin with.

But you're bruised and barely a person,

you don't exist anymore.

At least the you, you had when it started doesn't exist.

But thats okay, because maybe it's not about becoming,

it's about undoing.

This is my unbecoming, giving up any ideas about myself,

any beliefs that hold me here

constantly being confronted with the boundless nature of my reality

of my being

reinventing

destroying

constantly becoming

and unbecoming.

I don't know if I'm reflecting what's being given

or if I'm letting people in.

Is love to reflect back at others what is in you?

After all

the colors we see

is the light an object can reflect.

If only blue light is shown on something red, it will apear black.

We've all known people who hold onto everything,

who take everything,

and you never see anything reflected.

If we were all white light,

we could be everything

and nothing at all

The curiosity to peer in, is that what it is?

The melancholy sets in

or it tries to.

It all catches up, swallows you, crushed under the weight of it all,

it's like if you could just keep your head above the water.

You could find it there

That bliss you wish so desperately you could find comfort in.

But this is where you detach,

where your grip on the present becomes undone

lost in the torment of your mind

the traumas

the wires

the triggers

the fears

the places you have to poke and prod that bliss brought with it

you have to rip your mind apart to find your way out

each time you wonder who you will be when you find your way through.

But it's that moment,

the moment you fear the most,

where you feel free.

There is pure clarity, you're not in your head

and the feelings are at bay.

The you you became in the unbecoming,

gets more complex each time

less complex

easier

less saturated with color.