There is a dark and empty room in every heart.
A hallowed ground, as cold as the invisible coils that runs below our skin on February's early dawn.
It speaks of sorrow, but no, it seldom speak.
One could get lost in that place, if his heart is so weaken by the misfortunes of this rugged terrain we so desperately bound ourselves.
Until the terrain itself consumes all our luster, until it devours everything that we thought made our existence in absolute with the rest of God's creation.
Until we forget.
Forced by the circumstances, we are drawn to dwell in that cold, dark place.
A prison. An endless maze.
Some dwell in it for the silence. Some dwell in it until it becomes a fortress of solitude. Of darkness.
Emptiness at last becomes an ally.
A friend for every lost soul.
I have travelled back and forth to that place and decided to dwell there no more.
For that place held me back. Retards the song that my heart longs.
I have flooded that place with my failures and longings. I have shared in its darkness and its sorrow.
No more.
Had I not drank the salts of my tears and filled my lungs with the wine of my discouragements, I might have drown in the peace it provides.
But if all the pains and tortures of everything that is outside of that place keeps me from breathing the sweet life it offers, even if it only gave a faint scent...