Awakening

THIS AM:

Spiritually,

I am like a man,

Dead and whose soul,

Mourns in the grave, amidst my corpse,

Decaying.

Yet walking and talking,

Among my fellow dead.

I cry for that vitality,

That deeper life,

Which will make my breathing,

Worthwhile.

All the world and the things of the world,

Which lay before me,

Decaying too,

Are like transparent ghosts.

And I dig the heavens,

The innermost me,

For the light again,

The light which shines,

brighter than the transparencies!

THIS PM:

Most people depend on the natural level of stimulation of the brain, and if they suffer a neuro-chemical diminishment of dopamine, they become depressed. But some people suffer a different ailment–a spiritual dark night of the soul, which can look like depression. This state is where they see beyond the emptiness and vanity of the world, of people and their petty pursuits. This dark night of the soul, of some, must then lead to their soul’s light breaking through the brain, giving them a dauntless, spiritual stimulation. This is a miracle. This is what makes saints. This is my hope and desire!