It's Just Time
` it's just time `
There is a presence that lives deep within me, a dark, relentless force that invades each fleeting thought and twists my weary soul into a shadow of itself. It is that same insidious weight I have spent my entire life fleeing, a force that calls forth demons in the quiet moments, only to assault the purity of my soul with a fury that leaves me wilted.
All my struggles to defy this relentless torment, to ward off these soulless figures that arise each time I dare to feel too much. I have waged these battles with every shard of strength that my vulnerabilites could muster, yet the echoes of these otherworldly foes persist, their presence a constant reminder of my fragile mortality.
This thing of my doing is both my curse and my madness the core of my melancholic addiction that soils the remnants of all that was once good to me. It is an agony crafted in the image of a lost soul, an unyielding pain that refuses to vanish; instead, it bides its time, waiting, looming, for the precise moment to agonize once more.
Today, however, something is different. I no longer feel the pull to rise against this consuming shadow. Instead, I see it now in its intricate cruelty, a calculated devourer of sanity. Perhaps, at last, these ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me, wearing down the fury of my rebellion. Maybe it is time to lay down my battle-worn defenses and finally yield to these demons.
Maybe it's just time...
— a poet
15th May, 2025
Artist Credits Albrecht Dürer’s
(German, Nuremberg 1471–1528 Nuremberg)
Title: "Engraving Melancholy I" (1514)
Source: metmuseum.org
[THOUGHTS of PROSE]
The foot steps we once took, in moments of solitary clarity or aching despair, continue to mold our being with a deliberate, melancholic grace. Their echoes, etched deep in the arcane depths of our souls, are the ever-present architects of our present.
[EKPHRASTIC INSPIRATION]
Albrecht Dürer’s "Melencolia I" stands as a masterpiece of the Renaissance and a haunting meditation on the creative spirit. There is a quiet despair mirroring the melancholy of artistic struggle, the weight of ideas unfulfilled. The sleeping dog at her feet speaks to exhaustion, an echo of creative fatigue. And yet, in the tension between precision and uncertainty, "Melencolia I" captures the paradox of creation itself, order and chaos, knowledge and doubt, genius and suffering.
There is a presence that lives deep within me, a dark, relentless force that invades each fleeting thought and twists my weary soul into a shadow of itself. It is that same insidious weight I have spent my entire life fleeing, a force that calls forth demons in the quiet moments, only to assault the purity of my soul with a fury that leaves me wilted.
All my struggles to defy this relentless torment, to ward off these soulless figures that arise each time I dare to feel too much. I have waged these battles with every shard of strength that my vulnerabilites could muster, yet the echoes of these otherworldly foes persist, their presence a constant reminder of my fragile mortality.
This thing of my doing is both my curse and my madness the core of my melancholic addiction that soils the remnants of all that was once good to me. It is an agony crafted in the image of a lost soul, an unyielding pain that refuses to vanish; instead, it bides its time, waiting, looming, for the precise moment to agonize once more.
Today, however, something is different. I no longer feel the pull to rise against this consuming shadow. Instead, I see it now in its intricate cruelty, a calculated devourer of sanity. Perhaps, at last, these ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me, wearing down the fury of my rebellion. Maybe it is time to lay down my battle-worn defenses and finally yield to these demons.
Maybe it's just time...
— a poet
15th May, 2025
Artist Credits Albrecht Dürer’s
(German, Nuremberg 1471–1528 Nuremberg)
Title: "Engraving Melancholy I" (1514)
Source: metmuseum.org
[THOUGHTS of PROSE]
The foot steps we once took, in moments of solitary clarity or aching despair, continue to mold our being with a deliberate, melancholic grace. Their echoes, etched deep in the arcane depths of our souls, are the ever-present architects of our present.
[EKPHRASTIC INSPIRATION]
Albrecht Dürer’s "Melencolia I" stands as a masterpiece of the Renaissance and a haunting meditation on the creative spirit. There is a quiet despair mirroring the melancholy of artistic struggle, the weight of ideas unfulfilled. The sleeping dog at her feet speaks to exhaustion, an echo of creative fatigue. And yet, in the tension between precision and uncertainty, "Melencolia I" captures the paradox of creation itself, order and chaos, knowledge and doubt, genius and suffering.
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