– Swimming in a Flood by Passion Pit
Light is Love.
By Yours Truly
Lost in the sea of wandering souls,
She yearns to swim up to the rays of light.
The light calls her closer, closer, and yet closer,
She begs to not want it and, thus puts up a fight . . .
A fight to want to drown with the others,
To swim against the arduous white caps with delight.
A fight to want to mermaid-dive deeper and deeper,
To enjoy the plunge of self-worship, masked as insight.
She swims away from the love and the light.
She tries every alternate path.
Like an experiment on the heart,
Turmoil and juxtaposition is such the wrath.
A moment presents itself! –
For her to surrender!
… AGAIN and AGAIN…
She murders it!!! – like the blades of a blender.
She finally decides to throw everything in!
From memories, to people, to voices, to visions!
She completely rids herself! –
Of ALL past decisions.
Through the darkness and depths,
She proved there is no end,
To a cycle of fights,
When the light is your best friend.
One last time she will fight!
And beg to be left alone!
So as not to share with this world,
What has loved her . . . maybe even saved her . . . from a heart of stone.
Who would believe her?
In a world such as this –
Where the anchors are welcomed,
And the loving creatures hiss?
Where they enjoy the struggle,
Of wanting to be something beyond something!
And all without a care in the world,
For the most obvious forms of loving!
A heart on fire below the surface,
Is FI-NAL-LY put out . . .
It turns to within amongst all its sin,
And finds the source of reasonable doubt.
The final ingredient!
She puts the whole heart in the blender.
And what must come of this?
But, a bloodbath of render!
With everything destroyed (yay!)
And every path taken (yay!)
The experiment is OVER.
And what’s left? – Complete silence . . . that was forsaken.
Patience. Silence. The waves, no longer crashing.
Stillness. Listening. The darkness, no longer dancing.
An entirely new heart,
Is restored to this vessel.
It has the love and ability,
To look back on each trestle…
…With a sifter of prayer,
And contemplative belief,
Where the blood just keeps pumping,
With no need for relief.