It slipped through my grasp this morning. Bounced off each finger. Anxiety rose and hope fled as my tentative hold became futile.
A million lethal shards flew- projected in every direction.
damaged. broken. shattered.
If it were a vase, I could- I would whisk it away.
One's sanity is not as replaceable.
The deafening silence should bring peace. calm. But it invites maddening chaos into every eternal second.
How can one mind house so many distinct, aggressive voices?
The cycle comes so often, so regularly. The tell-tale signs should be obvious, predictable, reversible.
But previous victories dull apprehension. The usual warnings fail.
Arrogant confidence reigns.
Until I lose my grip.
photo credit: http://galeri8.uludagsozluk.com