It feels like months
Where have I traveled?
A place of mystery and uncertainty
I can’t believe I am here
In this place, at this moment
Thinking, relishing, questioning
My purpose, my call, my existence
Surrounded but alone
Clinging to hope yet untethered
Trapped in the crevices of thought
I’ve traveled here before
It’s uncomfortable, that face, the reflection
Its shadow reaching out to hug me
Whispers of I love you, you have a purpose
You exist for a reason
I don’t embrace it
I turn off the light
Tears run down the mirror
I’ve been here before, it hasn’t been days
It’s been hours
In front of an empty table
Food cold, coffee bland, water lukewarm
Depression says hello
You are in the literary class of T.S. Eliot with your ability to not only capture, but also to articulate that which is melancholy and the emotionally subdued and broken. This will help many IN THE CHURCH that wrestle with depression and feelings of hopelessness, or of losing one’s sense of purpose. As for you, talk to me if you ever get here, my brother. Love you, much.
I appreciate you brother.
https://tonybriscoe.co The Endurer For Booking Call 773-236-0730
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