November is ushered in with dead days.
All Saints' Day. All Souls' Day.
Dia de Muertos. Day of the Dead.
The dead days reflect the essence of my soul: empty, withered, drained, lifeless. I feel I'm among the living dead.
Is this too depressing for you?
Too bad. It's my reality check.
(sensitive souls, hold your ears)
Life can be an unrelenting bitch. It can ruthlessly drain you of every positive thing you once had - and as you're reeling in disbelief, it will unceremoniously kick you in the ass and make sure you're down permanently for the count.
Paltry prayers will never be a potent enough ploy for you to get up again. Prayers fade and dissolve in shrouds of cold vapidity before they get to Heaven. Only the blessing of your tepid hopefulness will save them.
Don't ponder that for too long - - you'll hurt yourself. I'm merely thinking out loud and saying things that you already know but are afraid to acknowledge.
I have begun November in the putrid realms of impenetrable darkness. No need to panic.
The darkness will pass. Eventually.
These dark realms are a part of my complex, enigmatic nature.
I was never an optimist, never a saint, never a foolish Pollyanna. The unrelenting tribulations of life have ravaged me so many times that it has extinguished the candles of Faith.
The realms of Hell are what we experience when we are living.
I ventured outside and walked in the forest yesterday. A brief welcomed respite.
My original intention was to post forest photos today (I'm sure you're excitement knows no bounds)........but I got sidetracked with my dismal dissertation.
I'll post the photos tomorrow. Or soon.
The following photo was taken yesterday in early afternoon. Eerie mists and a feeble sun turned the forest into a monochromatic dreamscape.
Until soon, Jon
