Darkness vs. The Light

Flashlights do not have an inverse that spews shadow.

Darkness is only as powerful as imagination allows.

Darkness, has no energy.  Light must sacrifice energy to exist.

Darkness devours the eyes.  Light fuels a weary mind.

Light burns with passion.

Darkness hopes for inaction.

Darkness lies, behind its heavy cold shroud.  Light is warm, and silent.

. . .

Copyright © 2018 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

Pillared Ceremony

4 pillars hold up the delicate winner,

of life and happiness.

Food: Un-crafted by poison.

Exercise: Unobstructed by mediocrity.

Soul: Unyielding to the dark void of sorrow.

And last…  Sleep:  Where the mind dances with shadow,

and unravels thick demon fabric,

that false skin of the weary.

Emotions raw,

dreams slowly wash clean

with steady breath

the mind…

the fragile floor,

upon which

the pillars stand.

. . .

Copyright 2018 © Zachary W. Gilbert

Alter

A primitive hand held alter, my only companion in the lonely darkness.  I reopen the portal.  Biting white light invades my eyes.  Cold two a.m. coffee hammers my weary taste buds.   My fingers fumble over symbols beckoning  the portal to spit a soulless recorded voice into my dry ears.  The voice ends, a slow beep, my heart pounds.  I beg, I rant, I try to explain why I should get the thing I desire most.  If mistakes are explained well, people will let you fix them.  Right?  I don’t know.  Talking too much, more coffee.  It is flat, muted, and seemingly dead, like the world feels in the cool dark air.  I throw the portal across the room, my angry shouts slam into concrete and are reduced to silence.  I have forgotten most of what I said, and I am still pacing.  Awake in the deep night and the complication of regret feeling like a stone fist stuck forever in my belly.  I offer fantasy dreams of redemption before the dead alter, with its glow holding my gaze.  In the next moment I am dislodged.  Sunlight licks my cheek.  Shadowy demons swim away from the warm yellow light as it crawls forth from distant horizons.

. . .

Copyright © 2018 Zachary W. Gilbert

Pain

Pain shall astonish you, when it reveals that it is the sister of success.

. . .

I divorced pizza.  Pain.

I tried to do 3 push-ups. Pain.

10 years later, mom is still gone. Pain.

. . .

Pain on,  eating broccoli.  Weight loss, Pay’n off.

Pain on, 30 push-ups gone.  Effort, Pay’n off.

Pain on, Mom’s silence.  How she raised me, Pay’n off.

. . .

Copyright © 2018 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

The Box

The room is dark.  My heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest.  Sweat begins to invade my palms.  I feel like I am being watched, as my eyes hunt around the room.  Pausing for a fearful moment, I remember to breathe.  I pull the box out of closet, I open it and smile.  Several ‘toe only’ cat steps carry me to the door.   I long to be free of this dark blanket of fear.  I reach down to open the door, the fleshy pad of my hand is hot against the cold metal of the handle.   In an instant, fears ghost like  fingers, pull the hairs on my neck as a voice whispers from the blackness of the room, “What’s your rush?”

. . .

Copyright © 2018 Zachary W. Gilbert