Dwelling

I was dwelling within the depths of my loneliness and loss and felt the urge to write...and so here I am.  Sometimes the heart doesn't say what to write, just that it must be done.  At least that is the way insipration works for me.  But I have been dwelling for the last hour or so; I have this ominous feeling that my wife will be here any moment.  It is a terrible torment to have to suffer through because I KNOW I will never see her again but that  feeling is a whole other matter.  Feelings are dastardly things that can return great pleasure but also great pain.  Feelings have a manic way about them, jumping from one moment to the next without a trail or logic and us as subjects in this reality are left there exposed to let these things wash over us; to drown us!  I felt great love for Her.  She was a goddess. Life just is not the same without Her there to lead me, to make this wicked reality meaningful once more.  Things that I used to do--things that we did together--that use to sustain my desires, the dainty pleasures that one partakes in and indulges upon are now as if ash in my mouth.  They taste of a bitterness I have yet to be courageous enough to confront.  I loved Seattle.  A town I had lived in and loved with Her--my greatest of all Loves--and now when I gaze upon my memories the meeker descriptions make me think apt to iterate nausea as the least offensive description of this torrid feeling; like that of posing to make that leap over a cliff and then never leaping.  That is my Sisyphean task, my boulder I must push.  But for how long?  Mourning ends?  God I hope it to end but then I think that of the source!  The source of this is Her and She is gone...gone forever.  And with that deduction I lose all hope.  I fathom a future of misery, despair and loneliness that never ebbs but floats around me as if the ash of her fire smothered out and forever to float within my vision as a badge of fact that I cannot forget Her and I never will and it is because I cannot and that I never will that I am damned to be exposed to this world bereft of my Love and in that my purpose.  Woe is me.

Until next time...