I had lost some things along the way. I ventured through areas of torment and suffering, paying dues. . . paying with what I had incubated in my consciousness; priceless; stumbling to land there.
I am not alone in this loss–wouldn’t you agree?
The untouchable balance of Yin and Yang, when challenged, casts an invitation by some psychic beacon to lure whatever presence is wandering the void of dimensional space-time.
As my weakness allowed, a deeper darkness masterfully found refuge in my own rotted cavities where the goodness, wonder and innocence had been ripped or snatched, or perhaps withered in some nightmare I wasn’t equipped to control–I had become the host for that writhing, dark heaviness that wasted no time to nourish lavishly: Devouring that rotted cavity.