I have, to my horror,
self-imposed this self-consuming
solitude and silence
far too long,
confusing it for peace.
The restlessness within me
is like a grin of uncertainty
in the face of possible danger.
How many more times must I start over?
How many more opportunities to rise
from the ashes of my explosions?
The sword of my life grows heavier
with each new lifting, each new slaying
of battling spirits in the lengthening shadows,
exacting its terrible, inevitable toll.
There is only so much more
to take, to give, to become, to discover,
and to enjoy.
And yet, in the darkness that precedes
paradise,
we are reminded
there is so much more.
Beyond Panic 