Identity

 (not much of a poet...these are just thoughts translated to words)

I look into my mirror self,

but this image is of one with peace.

My gaze I hold til blackness engulfs this form,

tearing down the remains of what I see.

Black, nothing more,

nothing less, is all I see.

Fear and rage all I feel.

Sights of who,

of what I was shred themselves from my soul.

My body is numb, my voice caught in my throat,

My being one of immobility.

Partitioned mind, lost in the incarceration,

brings again the light, the catalyst, to my mirror image.

Tingling sensation tickles

through my body as breath fills my lungs

and rage dissipates into the void from which I come.

New understanding so gently caresses my mind,

Steadily broadening my consciousness.

The inevitability of this black hole no longer causes worry,

no longer eats as acid from my soul.

Necessity in love equal for the Dark and the Light,

shine through the scars,

and graciously heal.

A sense of identity washes over me as hands,

cold, yet gentle, individualize the awakened characteristics.

Past, present, and future formulate as an entity,

a being sharing the knowledge of my rightful path.

Identity and this entity of my subconsciousness grow,

slowly and gently, but ever so steadily,

into the image that my past was bewildered to behold.