Dark Corners

Pain isn't pretty.  And neither am I.  We're both dark.  Like this corner.  Dead.  Like the wind that no longer stirs from this fan.  Stuck.  Like this clock.  Pain.  It's a dark corner, a dead fan, a clock stuck... in time.  So am I.

That's where I am.  Right now.  Where I have been and continue to be so often.  For so long.  Dark.  Dead.  Stuck.  In time.  With Pain.  And it is NOT beautiful.  It's not.  Pain is dark and ugly, it's dead and depressing.  It's sticky like black tar so that I cannot move.  In this dark corner. Where the wind no longer blows.  Where the hand of time won't move.   

This is why.... My dark corners - I need them to be beautiful.  Because Pain is not.  Beautiful.  It is not.  It is dark and dead and sticky like black tar and stuck, here, in the Land of the Living.  

But this dark corner.  Is.  Intended.  To be Beautiful.  With heavy dark curtains that shade tired eyes from bright Pain, offering shelter and relief from the day.  With a dead Wizard Deluxe fan that, when I'm quiet, whispers a breath of hope into the air of our home.  With a Baby Ben clock, that will tick-toc, just for me, when it's wound.  When I sit here in this dark corner and need to see the hand of time move... when I want it to move.  So that Pain.  Will be done.  With me.   

This dark corner.  It's just right.  Where I am.  Right now.  Where I have been and continue to be so often.  For so long.  Turning the switch on this heavy brass lamp.  Baring Beauty.  

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