Reaching Out

I wake as if from a slumber to suddenly find myself confronted with a sense of sadness. I stare out my window as a forlorn shadow is cast on my once cheerful nature. Its a strange misery that appears to have raised its head out of nowhere. Perhaps its been there all along. This time I have failed to evade the despair ... Having lost the ability to wrap myself up in the bliss of ignorance, I seem to have equally lost the warmth of my once sunny disposition. As my fears grow shapes and come charging, I offer bitter hospitality to the coldness of the shadows that envelope me now and await the inevitable.

The intensity of my anxiety have become my closest companion and a prison warden to my exiled dreams. Having become alienated from those I hold dear I walk in the midst of the ruins of my existence. All that remains is self loathing which has insidiously arranged the rebuilding of these prison walls which incarcerates my hopes.

Like weeds growing in the night I find my garden of serenity overtaken by this unfathomable depth of sorrow. Blinded by ever multiplying obstacles I grope through fields of sadness ... hoping ... Yet still hoping ... as dim as the flicker of a candle in the dead of night ... Flickering on its last morsels of wax ... Hoping to feel the warmth of the rays of rekindled joy within this weathered soul.


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Johannes Cloete
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