The gravity feeling

round and round the head.

Intermittent claws,

hungry fingers

molest both

cheek and tongue,

massaging on the eyes–

It pulls the verve of the heart down,

a deep ravine, a pit of recession

free from the monickers of love.

It spells salvation in seven steps,

betrays the soul so the self

might advance.

It is backwards and forwards,

it is self-satisfied and crucial.

Alone in a darkened room,

ambling and nickering in a closet

like a ghost child aggravating

for attention, the docile, dull, dim light

like a candle suffocated by the shadows

begins to bloom. The darkness lessens,

becoming squat as the light grows.

It is a nascent light. An age-old light.

Far older than any mystery or mythology

supplanted this era.

The true light of creation,

sublime and omniscient,

ignites and inspires

all things to grow,

to exist as intended,

to fulfill its own purpose.

And now that light returns to the surface,

stirring awake the children of the son.

To embrace another paradigm,

to embrace a truthful cosmic.

Understanding essential,

response in kind.

Thy Light, thy light.

If only to see.

In an incessant stir of sadness

they cried and moaned into the night

staring blatantly at blank walls and empty ceiling,

agitated, upset.

Aggressive

with intense fear.

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Aggression / Intense Fear was written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.