Its voice, relentless and intense, haunts me in the silence of night when no voice should speak.
A whispering in my ear, insisting and provoking, one that neither comforts or soothes like those pleasant sounds that mark the birth of day.
No, nothing welcoming comes in night’s bleakest hours. When thoughts linger and reason fails. The mind full of hopeless memories and impossible dreams.
Restless, I await this deliverer, the bearer of insecurity who fills my thoughts with a strange wisdom. A kind unfettered from the certainties of old and the foundations we once stood upon long ago.
Uncertainty, the spirit of this time haunts me with a trembling restlessness beyond my ability to withstand. My being shakes with every hidden whisper announcing the coming of the anxious age.
What is the wisdom of this age? Is it cruel or benevolent? Should I dread its coming or celebrate its arrival? I admit I do not know, lost as I am in this transitional moment in time. The only thing I know in certainty is this…
Photo by Ian Espinosa on Unsplash
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