A phantom mist of grey stands near.
It wakes me from my slumber.
Surprised, my eyes try to form it
Into an image that I know.
It’s not manipulate-able.
It doesn’t respond to my bidding.
Un-swayed by my thoughts or wishes,
It remains in its nebulous haze.
Suspicious instincts rise in me.
I plot its assassination.
In the zero sum game, one must lose.
One of us must die.
A vast door creaks ajar a bit.
Crevice light floods me with understanding.
I, myself, am the evil one.
I must let it kill me.
The knowledge of needed capitulation
Is sure, but will I fully surrender?
Can I release my centered self?
My strain to self -preserve?
Something assures me that if I will,
A new level of Soul will speak through me,
An unknown strength, deep peace, sweet energy
Will heal me to a wholer whole.
-jenn long
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