Your world is shaking, fissuring the dreams.
The blood of failure dribs -- drop by drop, shielding your bruised ego in its translucent, soggy film. Yet you are unable to hide the shame.
With every glance of the stranger’s voyeuristic eyes, you feel the nakedness of your soul, peeping through. Persistently endeavoring to hide under your skin it fails. The spaces in between your ruptured hide are now miles long, your body is tattered and your soul exposed.
It's not in your hands; your self-respect has bleached itself into a gray, crumpled, and defeated slugger. It refuses to move, even creep, crawl or shake. Lying inert it is dying, moaning, and begging to be dismissed. The dejection is too deep and so concentrated that it covers your sight as well as your hindsight in unflattering dark glasses that block anything good from your vision.
You are in the lowest of all lows. Your entity feels smaller than an iota -- the tiniest grain of sand. You are no more a living being, nor a plant, nor a seed, not even ash- unaware of who you are, or what you can be. You are a bygone chord in the universe of the breathing many.
It is when this wave of awfulness covers all the colors of your rainbow into soot; something in you awakens.
This something slashes through your nothingness, breaks the sad film blinding your sight, accumulates your boons and dismembers your banes. You suddenly stop wriggling in the dirt of loss; pull yourself to your full height – upright! Arm yourself for another bout at your quest. Apply the learnings and wisdom. This slayer is the sword of your hope.
Never think you have lost, recollect your assets, and remember the fight is not yet over. Your breath is the talisman of your triumphs.
Author: Kleio B'wti