the thin gossamer thread
that i held on
it has not snapped
nor has it torn apart,
it remained stout,
sturdy and solid.
Through the depths hell,
Over the nine mountains and eight seas,
There is nothing
That could cut
This thread of hope,
Not even the dreadful depression,
Nor even the sinister realism,
Could even tear this thread.
Thinking that I could live without hope,
I would be dead by the next breath.
hope is the very fountain of life
hope is the source of
Recuperating, I was heeding advice from the deepest side of me, seeking the truth and the very meaning of my existence. He was there, shedding light into the darkest ends of me, rekindling the essence of me, reigniting the will of fire, redesigning the mechanism of my thoughts, manoeuvring negativity into positivity, changing me.
There was I, found when I was lost after one and a half years. If it were not for Him, I would continue to wander off into nothingness, living life without knowing, giving my life to worthless platforms, wasting my one and a half years or even more. I never knew how lost was I until I was willing to confront myself- the abysmal, wretched, dysfunctional being.
Even when I was unconscious, I knew I had to cling unto the sliver of hope that bled through the skies. It was instinct, pure instinct. Losing myself was part and parcel of His plan because I realised, by losing myself, I learned how to recover me, to recollect the broken pieces of me, to re-learn about myself, to reconsider my life, to reevaluate myself.
For this catharsis, I knew I had to do it, even though my negligence was at its peak, I nearly gave up on myself. At that brink of succumbing to conformity, I caught a glimpse of what giving in to the darkest side of me looked like. A jolt was sent through my spine, kicking things back into order. It was here, that through my words, I got the opportunity to research on my very own demeanor, to re-understand what I do not know about me, to restructure my relationship with God.
This was considered the trough of my life, the longest drought that I had endured throughout my life, the most that I had grown in terms of mentality, the least that I had achieved in life. This is akin to the bridge that I must cross in order to surpass me- my puerile thoughts of life, my limited senses, my unfettered self, my own shortcomings.
Praise the Lord.