THE INNER SANCTUM OF THE SOUL

 

Is it black?

As black as the night

Or is it white?

As white as the brightest light

Is it neither?

Or both?

It is you

Watching your paper-thin self constantly be created and destroyed

By the truth

Your truth

The only truth that really matters

As you in a rage

Grab and crumple a day

And as the despondent sun turns his back

Gleefully and slowly

Put it to the open flame

Then sit quietly

And watch it burn

Feeling the loss

The emptiness

Slowly move inside you

Like the relentless incoming tide

The day

It is gone forever

In hindsight

In reflection

You realize

It never really existed

But a dream

I s’pose

Is it black?

As black as the darkest night

Is it white?

As white as the brightest light

This truth of yours

Steadfast

Unchanging

Waiting

For you

You glance over nervously

In quiet moments

Those moments when the din briefly ceases

You find your eyes slowly moving to the abyss

You wonder

“Why am I so fucking afraid?

Please…

Let there be noise!”

The truth knows

It possesses what you will never possess

In your temporal flesh and blood pathetic garb

It knows in hand it holds the reigns of time

Yet, it is possessed

By Nothing

It is not waiting

It simply Is…

It knows

Sooner or later

Often sooner

You both will sit face to face

You will have nowhere to run

Nowhere to hide

You will sit shaking

As you finally realize

The only option

Is to sit in the great and hallowed cleansing silence

And listen

Listen to what was always right there

Listen

To your true self