The noise of my thoughts
is louder
than an awkward silence.
I want to be
so full
of internal dialogue that
it hurts
to stand up straight.
I want to be weighed down by the
burdens of pain,
to be that much lighter,
stand that much straighter,
when I unload these weights.
I want my legs
to have burned,
straining
on the uphill battle,
with the knowledge
that I will be that much freer,
flying,
once I conquer the mountain.
I want my thoughts
to burn;
a shot of vodka,
the lump of pain
slowly trickling down my throat,
yet
chased with
epiphanies so sweet;
I forget the sting that had
lingered,
lingered before them.
I want to embrace the hangover
that makes my head ache from the
daggers of astounding clarity,
but is cured by
cushions of comfort.
I will not allow
my mind to sleep.
I will face the
pins and needles
of awakening the
numbness.
I will not lie
overcast with
stark numbness,
surrendering to the greatest curse.
I will drag myself,
slowly at first,
easing into pressure
that will cause a shock of pain.
Each step becomes
easier
than the next,
as the pins and needles fade;
I no longer need to limp.
I will walk
into the darkness,
guided by the
bright, shining stars,
which behold the greatest beauty.
A constant gray, gloomy sky
is triumphed by a storm that ends,
illuminated by a rainbow.
The rainbow does not always
succeed the storm.
Sometimes,
we find our
pots of gold
in the emerging sun
that has returned to
brighten the day,
erasing the traces of the storm,
which will only be remembered by
onlookers and the shadow of wet ground.
We cannot chase away
shadows
that do not exist;
however,
we cannot exist
without our shadows.
We cannot walk in the sunshine without
being trailed by a shadow,
but never walking a day in the sunshine
is not living at all.
Be thankful
for being able to recognize the
darkest days
because it means you have known
days as bright
as shooting stars.
Brightness
does not erase
nor prevent
darkness;
it simply gives value to the contrast.

Black would not be dark
without white.
White would not be light
without black.
Art class taught me
black and white
will mix to make
grays,
but grays
alone
will never produce these
extremes.
I want to force myself to think
across the spectrum,
not limited to living in
ignorant shades of gray.
Happiness and sadness
live outside the realm
of colours and shades,
they are deeply intertwined,
an abstract Picasso.
It is not in the simplicity of
lines and corners
that you will find them;
it is hidden in the complexity of
curves and circles.
Opposing forces
complete the most beautiful pictures,
entangled by blurred lines,
varying brushstrokes,
and seamless edges.

The picturesque glow of happiness
frames the shadow of sadness,
the light of the moon
bright as day,
only at night.
In the light of day,
the magical glow of the moon
is lost,
blended into the background,
no longer astonishing.
The contrasting forces of
night and day
are given value by the
meaning of the other.
Opposites are
conjoined at the hip,
Siamese twins,
going nowhere alone,
inexistent without the other.
Excellent.
Awful.
Overjoyed.
Depressed.
Measured by relativity,
opposites
demand
both extremes to be felt
to create understanding.
Clarity arises through
contrast and comparison;
a Venn diagram requires two circles.
A circle creates
a constant infinity
with no change.
It is merely a flat path
promising
no fear,
no hope,
nowhere.
In the plains,
there is
no difference,
no achievement,
no accomplishment,
and no ability
to have different perspectives.
The vast perspective of a peak
is worth the struggle to climb to it.
To reach a peak,
you must first experience
a valley,
for without a valley,
a peak is
intangible.
The thought of failing
on a mission to climb a mountain is
staggering,
but absence of the mountain
is truly the most terrifying
of all.