Where do you go to escape the irascible fury of life?
To elude the chattering scatter-brained thoughts, the explosive rage of inner conflict, portentous clouds of pessimism, the cold and cynical bitterness of truth, where no one hears your anguish desperate cries in those stricken moments of strife.
Do you find it at the bottom of a swimming pool?
Where above, the rippling distorted reality dwells,
where voices muffle and light streams into the languid blue,
where time suspends between heaven and hell.
Do you seek the deafening sounds of slumbering mountains,
or travel on a cloud to a whimsical daydream,
or perhaps in a lonely fishing boat, drifting out to nowhere
or betwixt the porcelain majesty of a moonbeam.
Do you surround yourself with Dickens, Twain and Hemmingway,
or in the mirthful notes of a cello prelude,
or in the rustic sanctuary of a rickety house,
painted by the footprints of forgotten childhood.
Do you run to where the wild things are,
drenched in dew drops, melted by rhapsodic day,
or lose yourself in the auburn mosaics of autumn,
or cruise down the acrid winds of highways.
Do you find it in the faith of a Divine and powerful being,
or in the eyes of a beast, wretched and meek,
and for the sentimental romantics, forever in his arms,
his eyes, his smile, his lazy sigh and his gentle kisses on your cheek.
Where does your heart wander when you are fighting with your last ounce of nerve, fibre and sinew,
when Fate mocks, Time taunts, Life tortures, Fear paralyses, Memories haunt and Wars never seize?
When the consequences of your criminal actions and the demons of your past have cornered you,
Go. Run. Hide. Cower in fear to that last resort and find your measure of peace.