The Center of my World

April 26, 2001

As I rise, the sun is bright.
The air cool, and breezes dance across the grass.
Getting up is easy enough.
Normal first thing duties must be done.
Then as I sit to gather my thoughts for the day.
I find another world, as plain as the day.
Looking out the window, I see a wonderous day forming.
Looking within I see a different scene.

Rising from my seat, I look about.
It is not so bright here, damp and dreary actually.
Hand on my seat, as not to lose orientation, I look about.
Circling my chair, there is so much here.
I look up for the sun, and find clouds emcumbasing my world.
I look for my window to see the sun and spring breezes.
But see nothing of the sort.

My chair is the same as it always is.
Comfortable and inviting. Soft and plush.
But what surrounds it is so drastically different.
I have been to this place many times.
More often than not, I come here for refuge.
Though now refuge it is not.

I have been here many times as I said.
Each has been different but much the same.
My chair, never waivers.
Its consistency is a comfort I cherish.
The walls are always made of something hard.
To keep out the cold and hold the warmth within.
Usually covered in things fine.
Tapestries and paintings that bring comfort.
Things of beauty far surpassing my outer world.
Pleasing to the eye but not too "busy".
A welcoming visual escape for the chaotic outside.

My floors are normally covered in things plush.
Rich colored carpets.
Fluffy pillows to lounge.
Never doth the cold reach my feet.
A welcoming physical escape for the chaotic outside.

I usually hear the music of an age no more.
Playing softly in the background.
Sometimes inviting me to dance upon my floors.
Sometimes easing the mind into a tranced slumber.
Comforting and relaxing.
An audio escape for the chaotic outside.

As I reach the back of my chair,
for the times I have circled it I know not,
I grab the back with a fury.
My nuckles begin to turn white as I so desperatly need to hold on.
I look around again, waivering as I stand.
I have been here so many times,
each has been different.
There has been chaos before.
Things have been missing.
But never like this.
Never quite like this.
Even when I felt stripped bare,
of what I so desperately wanted more than anything.
Looking up at the clouds moving in,
I remember a day not so long ago...
Of coming here and thinking my world was over.
My Mistress was out of reach...
My days were bleak to say the least.
And still I found some comfort here.

I look at my walls for my tapestries.
And what I see disturbs me.
For my walls are hard yes,
but cold and grey.
The dampness glistens from the moisture.
Small streams transgress down my walls.
I have seen this before,
but not to this degree.

The cold starts to seep into me from the floor.
I look down to see my carpets gone.
The floor is bare of its covering.
Far from inviting.
And yes I have seen this as well.

Taking another look around,
I notice the third missing thing.
That which has always brought comfort to my soul.
For all I hear is the trickle of water down my walls.
No music for my ears to drink of.

I hear a rumbling...
Looking up, I see the clouds beginning to roil.
Tumbling over themselves.
Rolling where they are.
Lightning flashes and the thunder begins.
The rumble grows louder as it reverberates off the walls of stone.
An unsettling feeling begins to set in.

The sound of grating stone causes me to turn.
A portal opens before me.
And as I watch it finish its path,
Another just like it begins to yawn.
My eyes follow its gaping mouth.
As one finishes another begins.
Turning where I stand,
I continue to watch.
One after another.
Where my tapestries once hung,
and my paintings abounded;
Mouth after mouth,
each calling me to enter.

With an unsettling I sit again in my chair.
Comfort cradles me, but I feel it not.
Looking at the maws before me,
I know I must decide.
Which shall be first.
Pondering the possibilities,
I hear voices in my head.
Familiar ones.
Tones of comfort.
Though comfort is not felt.
One thing at a time.
Baby steps.
Its ok.
Time will heal.
(of that I have no doubt)
Once this is done you'll feel better.
Baby steps.
One thing at a time.
And yet all these mouths await.
Each demanding patiently yet impatient.
Awaiting my enter.

The cold starts seaping into my bones.
Dread fills me from head to toe.
Warmth and peace only a figment of mine own imagination.
The cold of this place creeps into my soul.
The weight drowning my very being.

I close my eyes and see my window.
The sun inviting, the breezes tickling the grass.
The sun looks so warm and inviting.
Though my very being feels it not.
I open my eyes again and sigh.
For what I had hoped would not be so, is.
So I look again at the maws before me.
Wondering where to begin.

Written by: Jade Drgne
All Rights Reserved

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