Black is the Knight after the storm,
the tumultuous tide swallowed him and now
he's alone.
Rivers, seas and rains all collect in the Heavens, but the waves have paused. No aggression.
Deep lunges in the sand, he makes his way to optimistic land.
His shell is bruised but his soul, soothed. The squall has cleansed him, he needed clarity
from his life filled with misery, jealousy and tyranny.
He takes off his armor as he walks further, over the shingle
the stones, the mud and the grass, in the distance the clouds gently crash like a cymbal.
The air is pure, damp and refreshing,
he falls bare to the earth.
Caressing and stretching.
Mind wide open although he's been tested.
No more guessing, he's his own possession.

Do you know what it's like to be me?
Overwrought with anxiety; controls my mind and blocks my creativity.
Presenting itself when it's least expected,
like some kind of superiority
making itself my first priority.
I try to do Reiki, connect with my inner spirituality, ground myself like the golden tree, look to my spirit guides for sincerity - but all of this is just transitory. Even with moments of clarity and scrupulous wisdom guiding me, a sense of feeling divinity is only ever temporary.
Anxiety wants to be my destiny, holding it's grip tenaciously, keeping my confidence locked up in a hidden treasury - one day that'll be a great discovery; the day that being called 'Free' will no longer be an irony.
Hopefully.