I am dark and lost
I wonder why no one seems to care about the unseen
I hear little fairies whisper to me during the night, breaking into my subconscious thoughts
I see a jungle as I walk down the path I walk
I want to be able to cath the moon in my hands
I am dark and lost
I pretend that I am a dark soul, looking for a light
I feel lost with my thoughts of being an indestructible creature
I touch the moon every now and then to feel its silky pools of light
I worry that my darkness has me forever
I cry about how the moon isn't close enough to let me escape
I am dark and lost
I understand that this world I see is no reality
I say I can be free anytime I want to be
I dream that I can shed my darkness, grow wings from the pool light, and fly free
I try to be the best I can, when I'm not down in the dark
I hoope that someday I can catch the moon lite pools and fly free
I am dark and lost
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1. It being, decidedly, a work of imaginative fantasy, or,
2. It being insights (of a personal nature) confessed as a kind of cathartic disguised as a work of imaginative fantasy. There is (most assuredly) a spiritual battle for our attention and our souls on this planet. The fairies you speak of can be quite bothersome.
And then there is the way we have of regarding life and our place in it; in other words ... what we choose to ingest, (in any form) and meditate on, forms the substance of how we cerebrate and express, which ultimately forms who we appear to be.
In reality there are equal amounts of dark and light as we revolve around the sun. It's a mutualism written into the very fabric of celestial mechanics on planet earth. Light and dark exist in juxtapose. A great lesson in and of itself. And the shadows ... the only reason shadows exist (at all) is because of the light, literally and metaphorically. Deep melancholic introspection can work against us in certain instances. I know from experience. I come from a magnificently broken family- Christians and wiccans.
Seems the deeper we go into ourselves the more trash we discover and chaos we encounter. Perhaps giving the light an equal amount of thought would help lessen (the weight of) the moist cloak that lays upon your shoulders. The spirit of this work reminds me of my sister. And, Layla, from Nebraska, I've yammered a bit- my apologies. peace to you, and happy holidays ... richard