It's the time of morning where the low frequency buzz of the cable box and the whirling chatter of the refrigerator are the day's marching band. The delinquent mind on overload. The heat of a firing metabolism wailing inside the warm sea of my blood. My salvation arrives in the form of this canvas.
First there was the womb. Then the sensory baby. The confused infant. The inner-child. Achingly becoming the adolescent. These sidewinding apparitions mingle with present neuroses and a caffeinated mind that quickly and savagely becomes lost in a self-contrived maze of no apparent origin or ending. Stay calm. Walk the path, don't run. The demons that jump from behind sharp corners are only actors working on a commission relative to the fear they cause. These treacherous sounds of ghosts function on an automated recorded feed. The refracted mirrors are distorted only by negative thoughts. Enemies prey on belief in false forms. Truth is the furthest thing from your mind and that's the only danger. Find your truth again. Listen. Stop talking and listen. Every once in awhile clarity appears like crystal-cut daylight after rainshowers. As you move forward, the redirection of focus can be the best survival tool you have. Relax. Stay calm. Walk the path. Allow the best of your world to call to you.
When the exit appears. The pain starves. Truth arrives quiet and strong. There are no guarantees, but the sun will soon rise.
