Hope is fickle and fussy. It is fleeting and teasing,
lingering on the outskirts of the mind,
like a whisper in the wind.
Yet, when darkness falls and the abyss of empty nothingness rises up to consume all in its path,
this sparkling fairy dances at the door way
as a question whether this path must be taken,
or perhaps there is another way,
another option to move through the day.
And there are some days where there is only darkness and
the specks of light glimmer off further darkness,
welcoming the peace of numbness,
though it provides anything but,
irrelevant that the pull, the desire to relinquish is so strong.
In that moment staring into the gaping blackhole and
feeling the anchoring through to every nerve in the body;
the dancing fairy returns and asks "are you sure?"
Within a blink, it is but a lounge room, a bedroom or a house.
All quiet and seeming so very normal.