ALEIDOS

So, Sing until our cities free. Sing until our waters clean. Sing cause our people die. Soul make our people cry. Steal em, make em sterilized. Pharoah's pained and paralyzed. Man, They need to learn to recognize. In Africa, Adam's left; Her marrow lies.

Tempted by the apple. In her Temples lies an answer. Hinted by no trample. In his sizzles hides a dancer. On truth he stamps, in rhythm of a Phoenix beak. For glories honor, he who lead the schism seek.  A third they speak along, singing songs of whence we'd follow.  Adam's apple stuck inside his throat, God's love now known as hollow.

Wonder if he's sleepy, Morpheus piled upon his eyes. All-seeing, never dreaming. Why in us, night has wrung disguise? For ambitious be the wicked, yet meekly power seeks. If I had a Golden ticket, why seek me then, these glower wings? Cowards crawl in wait, anticipate a Revelation. Respected thus, rebels bronzed in reverberation. Revel dawn, excited by Bellona's famed anticipation.  Sit in patience. Djinn is waiting. Wishing ends to each Elitist Situation. 

Crazed brigades crave fame Eternal. Though became the blazed Diurnal.  Yet why not make haste, escape Infernal?

Singing till our cities warm.  In heaven not to manys born.  My demons have to many horns. The Devil comes in many forms. 

           There was a moment when depression engulfed me like an ocean. A morose Monday every day. Bitter beginnings of the week, and doleful descents into the end. Arms growing tired, rapidly thrashing in exasperated gesticulations of a breath stroking escape. It was a never ending cycle of never feeling good about myself. I couldn’t imagine feeling worth it. Knowing I didn't belong, and I wouldn’t ever quite fit in. Then, without warning, I saw sunshine. Photonic brief glimpses of happiness. Yet the feelings never really go anywhere. I just learned to deal with them for an undefined duration. Anxious crawling on the glistening sands, always afraid of the potential tsunami left behind.

           A fermenting fear. I could’ve drowned in that deep, dark ocean of despondency. Swam inside the swirling, somber sea of sadness, wading amongst the wistful waves of woebegone waters, left over products of weeping pessimism. Instead, I beached myself onto a sparkly, sunny shore. It makes me feel strong for a bit. Knowing I've escaped what is too often the end of most. Then, I think, is it ever really quite over?

           Things aren't perfect now. On this beach there weren't ballistic quantities of blithe berries, or blissful breezes that uplift the spirit. I didn't run across ponderously playful pearls, or perky mermaids wading with nymphs in mirth. What I discovered was a chest. This chest wasn't full of captivating, cheerful contraband left over by a peppy pirate. Instead, the chest was full of temporary contentment. And really, is that too much to ask for?

           Inside the waters I swam with sharks. Sharks who gobbled up self-esteem like fresh, bloody steaks served on a platter. Jaws clamped on my joy, jubilantly suctioning out every drop of juice. Crabs clawed at me constantly. I was conscious of their never dying efforts to make me concede. To coerce from me an utterance of defeat. Hopelessness heeded each hoarse heartbeat. I thought maybe I didn’t belong in this ocean, maybe I wasn’t made to be in this ocean. Although, I was thankful for it. I feel as if I needed to have dwelt in those deep blue depths, witnessing the atrocities. Appalled, hiding behind anemones. For, if I had never been there, would I ever appreciate the luscious laughter looming inside a young sun’s shine?

           I wasn't trying to be strong. I didn't search around inside of me, constantly trying to confide in my inner strength to combat these conniving corals. Somewhere along the way, it just happened. I learned to smile. I learned to feel a bit of joy. And, like a bubble, that joy rose inside of me; leading to a frantic, ferociously fast feeling of jubilant fervor. Until... I floated. I floated up from the sea, and escaped the murky, melancholy muddy Mediterranean below me.

           Was I strong? Maybe not. But I feel proud about whatever it was that drugged me from beneath. I may not be a superman, or even a Clark Kent. I may not ever be designated as a hero or savior, given salutation from citizens as I canvas from the skies to save lost souls from crimes. But, I am my own hero. I don't say it often enough, but I feel pride in myself. I feel pride for the push. Pride for the pulls. And I even feel pride for whatever stupid ship transported me so far away from the shore in the first place. Perhaps, something out there called to me. Perhaps, I went out to seek it.

           I didn't find a message in a bottle. I didn't break through the secrets of the Bermuda triangle. I discovered no hidden city of Atlantis beneath the depths. I sunk. But, I believe as I fell balefully from the boat that beautiful morning, I knew I'd find something down below. And, I'm often sure I've found it. I'm never sure what it was, nor what it is. And, I'm often sure I'll never know. Yet, somehow, as I smile brightly, standing along the beach, I feel fine. Even when the storm clouds gather, and precipitation brings a powerful pain down from above me. I feel fine.

           I can smile against the petty, quite miniscule disasters that the natural tides may toss my way. For, I've sailed below the surface. And, I know, no matter how bad things may look beyond the horizon of above, and no matter how sincere the singing sirens of the sea may seem... I've been there. I've sailed below the surface. I was strong enough to return. And, I found what I was looking for, so I have to perennially be prepared to dodge tsunamis and never go back again.

           The skies are just as blue and beautiful.

           But, damn, that ocean though. It seems so darkly lovely.