AARRG I am so dead to myself.
I am not good with the physical failure of my body
aches and pains traveling in and out of the realm of my conscious thoughts
I don't know when I'll be sick and grumpy
I have missed Tango lessons and milongas
I have avoided my new friends- I do not think they are ready for the stranger in me yet...
They know the good me, the funny me, the witty pleasant me
they don't know the dark desert sandstorm of my forsaken soul
they fanned coals of my former life blaze as bright embers fanned by the winds of pain and fear
There is deep within me
no-lurking just beneath the surface of my thin veneer of gentility
I see people who have passion and art and am drawn to them
Much like my fore bearers were drawn to the heat of the fire found burning after the destructive fury of nature brought the mighty oak to the ground
I want to control the fire burning in me
but to release my passion I risk total immolation
would it be so bad to crash to the ground and burn with no survivors?
would I or could I rise like the Phoenix
or would my absence raise the world to atonement with God
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