He traversed the valley for days
seeking the ancient one who’d provide
nourishment to his ailing soul
words from a holy mouth that
would unlock secrets of his inner-being –
sloshing through thick mud, the traveler perceives him
through the fog –
the figure of the ancient man
glowing, golden in the valley of shadows.
(Photo by John Joumaa on Unsplash)
I recently got some bad news that a friend of mine from recovery suddenly passed away. He was only 32 years old. As these dark pandemic days drag on, I felt I needed to write this post to process my emotions.
I was a mess in college.
Two years before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I was enrolled at a university in New York with somewhat of a life trajectory, a moral compass, and many good qualities.
You forget there are places like this:
A quiet bay with still water and a wide expanse,
the sun shining in a cloudless blue sky, and
seagulls calling overhead.
From the sandy shore, you watch the old man
cast a fishing net and the teenagers lounging
with headphones on.