THE RECLAIMING

Upon this night, I question myself.. I question life!
For what was once of brilliance and prophetic nature
Is now distorted and grotesque
Yes, my spirit has been drowned and soured
detached from myself , 
as if the strength of my soul
has been watered down 
Deflated by this peculiar sense of dissension

This isn't like me. This isn't me.
And yet here I am
Questioning myself, 
the heart, the art, the people, the future, the life,
And what for?
When none has given me a reason to doubt
And yet I doubt
When none has given me a reason to suspect
And yet I fail to find refuge within myself
Why do I not trust myself?
Why now do I not trust?

Such lunacy! To feel that no human could grasp
sympathize with my feeling of over-consciousness 
and the slightest of sorrow
That no human has ever let negativities of the past
Seep into the habits and thoughts of what patterns 
they were sure that they left behind?

And yet I remain silent
And yet I remain in this tart disposition,
Allowing my days and nights to be stained 
with this strange sense of sadness

As if I am a slave?! 
As if I have no power?! 
that I do not possess the key!?
As if there was no way out to such freedom...
As if my gift of intuition did never exist, 
and I have been but a fool all my life.

and so I must rummage through this reeking landfill.. 
for perhaps it is time
To once more interpret the words, 
both written and verbal of my past,
like a book, like some sorted tale
To unearth the roots and origin,
(like bones of yesterday waiting for their 15 minutes of fame,
waiting for the world to listen to the stories they long to tell)
And to find me till I can no longer claim to feel lost
For who wants to be lost within one's own self and world
Any complacent , any mundane fool perhaps... 
(whose never seen happiness)
but never I.