Restless Soul Syndrome

I want to outrun my body.
I feel trapped inside of an inescapable prism.
Like a caged tigress, I am pacing
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
Back and forth—
Desperate to get out.
To be free.
To feel the windiness of exhilaration once again.

I crave Everything,
But Nothing satisfies.

What is this Cycle of
Irrational fear,
Overreaction,
Sense of relief,
Conditional happiness,
Judge-mentality,
Extreme irritability,
Impatience,
Instantaneous Anger,
Deep sorrow,
and
Lonely
Restlessness,
Which possesses my being
And refuses to release me?

I am isolated.

From everything,
From everyone,
Even
From myself.

I crave Everything and Everyone,
But Nothing and No one satisfy.

I feel lost.
I do not know
Who or where
I am.
So I just
Am.

Is that OK?
I think so.
But still,
I feel crazy,
Unmotivated,
And unsatisfied.
This is not me.
At least not
The me
I once knew,
The me
I usually know.
Or is this me?
Another part me?
Do I have a multiple
Personality?
Maybe.
I don’t know.
I no longer know
How or where
To begin,
How or where
To go.

But I want my freedom.
And I want it now!
I am angry.
I am tired.
I am full of pent-up energy.
I want to act impulsively.
I want to run, run, run
Away.

But to where?
I don’t know.
Just away.

Yet within the frustration
Of this moment
Is where I must
And need
To stay.

There is no escape
From reality
Except
To accept.
To sit down,
To cease my pace,
To stand face-to-face
With myself.

For the truly
Free,
Must fully
Be.

Wow.
That’s cute
And easy to say.
But too difficult
For me to do—
At least for today.

Ahh!
Let me out!
Let me out.
Let me out.

Tonight,
Life
Is slow and sweet
(and careless),
Like the sun’s last evening kiss
Before he finally withdraws behind
His earthen fold.

Tonight,
Life
Is soft and warm and dark
(and full of secrets untold),
Like the rich, black soil buried beneath
A twinkling navy blanket.

Tonight,
Life
Is full of slumber and release,
Like a flower’s gentle sigh
As she folds her petals in for the night
And waits
Quietly for the morning.

They all must wait for the dawn,
For that single second
When the sky first opens her eye
And enlightens
All those who watch and wait
With eager expectations.
Her brightness sparkles and dances
From one translucent tear to another,
Until one-by-one
The drops melt away un—
And then,
Suddenly,
There it is!
What they’ve all been waiting for:
That tiny, green toothpick-of-a-thing.

Oh,
The mystery of Life!
Of soil
And sun
And seed
And water.
How is it possible
That from their intersection
New life so often follows
And thus begins a living memory
Of their sacred, momentary meeting?

And how is it possible
That some consider using
Illegitimate powers
To squash
That tiny, green toothpick-of-a-thing
Before it ever has a chance
To blossom?

Yes, some say,
“There are so many flowers,
That no one will notice
If there is one-less
Today.”

Yet, some say,
“Is it not tragic
To break what is fragile,
And is it not unnatural
To break the cycle
Of what is so clearly
Mother Nature’s Magic?”