Close to Oneself

How is it that one can be so close to oneself only when one is hurting so much that everything else in the world disappears?

Any external constructions flush away with tears, dropped off miles ago on the side of the road, deemed too heavy to carry. Barefoot on the harsh ground.

Former forged expressions forgotten in emptiness, developed at last into insignificance. Depression painting the whole landscape with quickly evaporating water.

Alone, likewise, having lost it's meaning when everything else is gone. Inside and outside turning out – and in – to be just the same naked thing.

Just this one moment now as hope is gone, the future forgotten, the past broken into unreal unreachable dreams. The pain blossoming in you, so vibrant and alive, forgiving, allencompassing. Present. You.