Volcano

I can feel the darkness creeping in.  I’ve tried to ignore it, to deny it for a very long time.  But it’s stronger, more oppressive.  It’s wining, and I don’t know how to conquer it.  There’s a beast in the darkness.  It’s been awakened and I  can hear it breathing.  I can almost feel it’s hot, heavy breath on me and I’m  scared.  I run from it and sometimes, for a time, I gain some ground, a higher  level, giving me a false sense of security.  But I tire.  I must rest, rebuild my strength.  I can not, for it is in these moments of respite that the darkness gains.  I’ve come to feel, to fear, that this is all there is.  Can the darkness be  banished completely?  Is it possible to truly see the light?  What must one do?

The ground on which I run is soft; the path narrow.  There’s an inescapable  rock face to my left, a long drop over a sheer cliff to my right and at times I  fear I’ll fall.  Below the cliff is rolling, boiling magma: my thoughts.  There’s something more.  I catch glimpses of it from time to time, but I can’t see it  clearly.  What is it?  Salvation, perhaps?  Escape?  This is torture.

I need time to think, to examine my situation and find a way out, a new path.   I need a guide.  But there’s no time for thought, no time for examination.   There is no guide in sight. If I stand still the darkness will overtake me and the beast shall surely devour me.  If I dive over the side, destruction is  imminent.  I’m sure to be burned, consumed by the molten thought below.

I must scramble along this treacherous path; maintain my narrow, desperate lead, searching all the while for the light, the secret escape that brings rest,  the solace that finally will bring this chase to an end.

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