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Without the contrast I fell upon my troubled mind.
Without the contrast there is no experience.
As I stand on the threshold of my aching spirit
Distant whispers echo into the abyss of my forgotten past,
Every memory I hold
Gradually sinks into the ocean of the universe.
The door of divinity blurs back into vision
and my external thoughts decay into existential nothingness.
A pounding in my head propels me into the depth of my being
through all that is deeply rooted beneath the ego
where you sat, celestial spirit
And I, barely before you
sweating frosted crystals of sweet mystery,
starving for truths I would never understand.
Every vision of radiance fades with time,
yet still there is contrast
And the clock on my head rings midnight of the dark night of the soul.