Seeing Double

I awoke to find myself about to roll of the edge of the bed. Decided I needed to use the bathroom so I got up. I fell flat on my face. My vision doubled and I stood again, stumbling and falling often along the way. Still seeing double.

A choir of female voices kept shouting, "Second sight! Second sight!"I found my housemate and in a panic told her my vision has doubled and promptly fell over again. She looked at me odd.

Next thing I knew I was awake, nearly falling off the bed.

Gem

An opal is like a soul. Lost inside are fiery ribbons of gold, orange, green and blue. Like a kaliedoscope, facets shift and shine infinately.

I've learned to stop separating people from good and bad. Black, grey and white. Like the Chinese concept of Yin and Yang. You have a good person with a bit of bad and a bad person with a bit of good.

I've sort of expanded on that theory. We are all gems of a particular colour with hues of others that change with light (or circumstances). I used to see myself as an Amethyst but now? Now I am a White Opal with a fiery heart.

I used to think of Mum as the good guy, Dad as the bad. In recent news I've learned about my Mother's lies and in some aspects my Father's. Came to a head. They never changed. They were always. Different facets show.

I'm not afraid of being hurt physically, emotionally or spiritually anymore. The greatest foe I've ever had, myself, defeated but still lurking in the depths of my being.

I'm lonely. I still wish for Chris or at least someone to fill his space. I'm okay. I'm learning more about myself everyday. And I like me. I'm in awe as I view the different colours radiate from me, my gem.

Fire

A friend of mine recently revealed his diagnosis and battle with clinical depression and anxiety. Another revealed that he was in that current mindstate. And another is in another of her suicide bids.

In the heat of summer when the paddocks are crowded with tussocks of dry brown grasses, when the landscape is like an overflowing tinderbox and the breeze breathes like the hot winds of a furnace, there is an odd calm, a rousing energy in the air, uncertainty, excitement.

Without warning sparks fly. The winds whip up and fire lashes its fury in the bush, in the fields and through homes, human or not. Flames lick the bark of gum trees, rogue pine explodes reminiscent of the nights of the Canberra Bush Fires seasons before. And in what seems like an instant of insanity and horror, the smoke clears and drifts lazily on. The flames have seemingly destroyed most in its path, raped the world of undergrowth.

But in tragedy, of all the death that came, triumph is seeded beneath the soil and has already begun to germinate in the heat of sorrow.

The Eyes

Snails moving in the sea of dew and silver trails
in morning gloom, in morning pride
Moving slowly, patiently watching
The all seeing, all knowing eyes of God.

Sleepy twitters of rousing birds
Silence save for the sound of the universe
moving with great energy
Stars in the eyes of God.

Mid afternoon the dew has gone
cracked shells and baked corpses
pavement stained with silver trails
and the remnants of the all seeing, all knowing
eyes of God.