Shadows Door

A Poem About Transcendence

When I write poetry or otherwise, I don’t think to write nor am I the real writer, but the writer that puts to word the will of the deep. I gaze into my soul the words thusly unroll.

When I’m not so fixated on the words and their content, the words slide faster than the mind can contend.

When I gaze in the dark, it gazes back; it looks me in the soul and reveals its black heart; the monstrous terrors of my own abyss. Do I dare keep lock with malicious incarnate, set forth shadow leaks from those silver eyes, a stare everlasting is this so wise?

It gazes at my fragility and says I don’t lack ability; I lack affinity with my own divinity, my light always steeped in spirit brilliantly.

My eyes and mind may know parts of truth and this shadow wants me to know it too. It wants me to get to a deeper verity, but sacrifice requires such effort uneasily, for we are that hole buried deeper than deep.

So I write, I’m a writer, but the words act through me. Their meaning and purpose call me to be. I write these words to express inner sights, all to know myself those deepest of frights.

I’m reading my book the longer I look, feeling venoms sting as it knocks at my doors, following along, taking me where I’ve yet to go. I’ll get to the words that free my soul by contending with demons inside this home.

There is something inherent and complex in all, the complexity by which we’re held together at all, the fragility of the system bold and meek, the living continue to wander and seek.

This complexity is rather scary but it speaks such wonders, can I ever take credit for what it lovingly ponders?

Thanks for reading! Ilija Begic

If you liked this, you’ll like this