Surrender to Light

Dyson Sphere

By Delbert H. Rhodes

I wake each morning staring into darkness, and a looming brilliance that at times is harsh and hurtful. How am I to understand that after almost sixty-two years, still, I have learned little, so little?

In my youth, there was laughter; but below the surface of imposing joy, sadness held me. Yes, even in childhood gloom walked with me. “Be positive, believe in you, tomorrow will be better than today.”-Perhaps.

Sometimes, I wonder why sadness finds me. Where are the answers to my many questions? Surely, all of you have better lives than I do. How am I ever to make sense of seemingly nothing? “Oh, come on, man, stop bellyaching; you have more than many.” Okay, still, the questions are worthy of asking and answering.

My life, my world spins on an axis of lulling sorrows, pains, insecurities and borrowed smiles. Sometimes laughter feels strange. Most times, and especially when I am alone, I realize that I may be smiling.

Forgive me, darkness was never my intention; I apologize for sullying your thinking. Still, I know no other way.

The day rushes in upon me, a wealth of sounds fills my ears. Sometimes the filtering light captivates me; the thin sprays of sheeted curtains wavering about the ceiling, walls and floor; the vivid streams become rivers of illumination.

Lying in bed I become breathless of the silhouetting spectra, and I wish that I were light. The quivering forms without human mass; the untouchable tangible spheres floating in thin rays, or, thicker sheets of mystical mesh cause me feelings of incredulity and envy.

These unstained entities, this purity existing without the dread of conception or the fury of pain fear and sadness. Oh, wonderful it must be!

Curiosities are many in my world; I consider things that even to me are strange.

Do you?

Sometimes I look at my hands. They are my Mother’s hands. My eyes, teeth, hair, all of me are mostly my Mother. Knowing this joyfully elevates me.

Often I wonder: If a photo, television or other displayed my faceless body parts could I identify them. Staring into a mirror, I sometimes desire that someone else stares back. Is this self-hate or a strange type of love; the need to be different, to purge and redistribute my DNA-Is this negative, imaginative or dread.

Of the many things that I can do, there are many more that I cannot. Of the many things that I understand, more things confuse me. Of the many things that I value, others are of little worth.

Strange: Mathematically, I am learning and demonstrate  basic calculations of Scientific Notation, Probability and Complex Fractions, while mingling with Monomials, Polynomials, Algebraic Fractions, Inequalities and Absolute Value; and energetically, learning continues without falter; yet psycho-emotionally the mind wearies of worry.

Query: What are the actual derivatives of the tangible and intangible regarding human tears versus human feelings? Truly, could we ever know? Skeptically, does it matter?

In morning’s wake, my thoughts and fears embrace me. Throughout the room and before me bright shadows dance to inaudible music, and it is as though the bedroom has morphed becoming sinister a dark carousel. Shortly, I spirit to the places of Witches while whirling to the whimsies of Court Jesters.

Soon I am home: and wittingly surrender to light: its reflective ribbons higher towers of consciousness.

Copyright © 2013 Delbert H. Rhodes