Ecstasy and agony

I don’t often pair music with my pieces, but I felt this was worth sharing (even though I really don’t like the cover pic of the video, lol, just ignore it).

https://youtu.be/KY-aNMZSQU4?si=H66vujDnRGM1ErkF

~

Everything beautiful makes me cry.

In moments of the extraordinary, I’m convinced

the universe is tethered through me and I

can feel it, this fragile connection to all things.

My heart expands,

my breath catches,

my mind lies prostrate in absolute awe

at the brilliance of my exposure;

I am moved. Simply and utterly.

And then this maelstrom of unfettered emotions

rises within, rushing through me in a furious torrent,

stretching my veins completely,

filling my lungs to the point of pain,

and I feel something so decidedly foreign�

Awake. Alive.

Maybe not quite so dead inside,

or forgotten,

or invisible.

The sound of piano keys and violins and voices raised

transports my tedious reality.

Elevates the mundane.

I devour a kaleidoscope of colors mixed on medium and painted across the sky,

pulling my gaze up to the heavens.

I witness the hopeful goodness in humanity.

Behold what it means for people to care about others,

lifting them up, loving without selfish agenda,

and it makes me feel worthy for a time.

An escape from the ugly.

I’m absorbed by the innocence of the natural world,

of the way creatures show inclusion and tenderness

amidst a brutal existence meant solely for survivors.

Tears press against my lashes, a thick knot forming in my throat at the primal wonder on display.

There is such a raw, surreal feeling to each minute.

It’s a luxury and a privilege to experience.

An unrefined euphoria leaving me exposed and vulnerable like my skin’s been scraped from the inside out,

as though I can be hurt more easily after the intensity wanes.

Empathy is a dual-edged blade after all,

capable of renewal as easily as destruction,

and therein lies the crux for me�

it’s impossible not to feel the wounds of both.

The ecstasy and agony go hand in hand,

yet not in equal measure,

for I must willfully seek out the beauty.

The grotesque is never out of reach.

• Image Acknowledgement: Created with NightCafeStudio
• AI Free Acknowledgement: This is my own work and has not been generated in whole or in part by AI