And Then Some

Whatever pain may come.

The river is no more.

I’m a mentally disturbed llama

I wish they may not run away look for the evening warm. a longing for the red. Have care Never fear Sit by people near us. Soon again, lock the door and turn towards the fields to look after the meadow. A little green encircled by a pretty ring, paling enclosed a flower stretched deeper down, and on the other side lay contentment. Walk to the field, gaze cheerfully around. A different look from the place. Here it is all so green, bedecked with thick-spread fruit trees, the ground full of beautiful flowers. Cheerful and at ease. Nay, I could fancy the woods greener here than elsewhere. The sky blue and so far as the eye can reach. You have pleasure and delight. Whenever you cross the stream you are in another world. Fir-ground, look back, dark and dismal that solitary spot is. Ruined stalls, the brook flowing past, a melancholy. If you approach that spot, You grow sad, you do not know why. Live there and keep themselves so separate from the rest of us. Who knows? But perhaps they be poor people. Wishing, shame, conceal. For, after all, no one can say. The only thing is none knows how they live. For the little garden, indeed, cannot support them. And their fields, they have none. No mortal comes, for the place they live. Our wildest fellows will not venture into it. Walk to the fields. That gloomy spot lay aside.

I rise by patching bleeding, I rise by getting help. I rise by helping others, I rise by healing self.

A lady lost in the woods running along no path her chocolate hair rushes behind her as her shimmering eyes search for a way out. Thorns snag at her shirt little lumps collect as she trips over roots unseen and cuts at her bare feet. Her mind confused, dazed around she finds the stream that once held her friend's safe haven but no, they are no friend no more. They look up from their side of stream, they kneel at the stream bed. Blue eye meets her brown, their tears are locked inside. The lady silently shakes her head. Her friend stands, whispering in the breeze that whips around, "I'm sorry, I did not know" they turn to walk away back out of the mind. "Don't" the lady shakes her head, they pause a moment now, but they know that once inside, their words hold no meaning more. They can say all they want, but nothing will make it right. The lady leaps into the streaming water cold envelopes her. "Wait!" she cries, "Come back!" but her friend is mist once more. The lady looks at the stream leaves passing by her shins. The silent stream soon roars to life and the lady lost becomes the friend by the stream.

Never have I felt so alone a silent mass grows. I have told those closest to me, but a silent stillness grows. I cry in my bed at night, but my own silence grows. I reach out to friends at night their silent responses grow. I cannot comprehend why. Silent confusion grows. Why me? Why eight out of ten thousand? My silent suffering grows. A neurosurgeon referral sent, the phone silence kills me as it grows. A silent plea prayed at night. My faith in life silently dies.