Neither high nor low this time.
Simply existing as I lie here,
my mind blank,
strangely it is not a feeling that perturbs
or is out of place.
It’s just that the noise has stopped,
the odd chatter that weaved in and out,
through my mind as though as a slithering snake
has calmed itself
and I am here,
with the quietness,
Even intruding noise pales in comparison
to the stillness,
I seem so far away from it,
it’s as though there’s no link from my auditory
path to it.
Like I have wiped away that connection,
I am dumbfounded in mind and soul,
and it’s not something that needs deflecting from,
for I am welcoming these sensations
which lack in their own.
Neither high nor low is my mood.
I am not raging, I am not frustrated,
I am not elated.
I am presently a blank canvas,
waiting for an artist like myself
to splatter me with my own colours,
my own schema,
my own shades from my palette,
and why, there are many,
wouldn’t you know it?
Though, there’s no need for any bright tones,
there is beauty in the unfinished,
the white rectangle I am present as
is surprisingly perfect,
a wanted moment,
a feast for the eyes,
for if I imagine my own scene,
my own painting,
I can alter myself,
in a way of doing so,
I appreciate the freedom
of the mental creation I can see and breathe.
Neither high nor low
is how I am,
not rushing toward the finishing line,
neither despairing because
I have not reached it in time.
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