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Surrender

The Resurrection of a Ghost Ship

By Andrew LandersPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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Reluctantly present amongst toxic fumes of self-malice fueled by feelings of unforgiving shame.

Stranded in solitude whilst surrounded by a conscious community. Preferring the company of poisonous thoughts over caring companions and undeserved honor.

I wonder if it's all just a game. A trial of survival to determine how long I can last while slowly committing subconscious suicide.

Subconsciously led by the ego, drawing me by my hand to toss me back in the hole, no longer knowing who's in control.

Please bring back the goals and show me what I need to someday succeed in losing this game.

They said surrender to win yet every time I let go I long for the strength to take back control. To experience a sense of power when the truth is I'm powerless. Jobless even homeless, but not hopeless or less than.

I was thoughtless, sometimes heartless, often penniless, but seldom loveless.

No, I was never loveless, more like love-resistant, life-resistant. Unable to accept reality, preferring a fantasy-world of false euphoria manufactured in a deep dark basement of despair.

A delusional world divided by a dirty river dubbed denial.

Living in a fortress guarded by material insignificance, a home stuffed with filling, the latest gadgets, all worthless fluff. Tons of money to burn, wondering when is my turn?

And burn it, I did, chasing happiness.

That's what I sought, although deep down inside I knew it could not be bought. I lost everything, in the end, no I threw it all away, day after day, believe me, what can I say? I learn things the hard way.

Left with nothing but a cracked shell barely protecting the remains of a shattered soul, a burnt-out case, the hull of a ghost ship, sailing swiftly toward its salvational demise.

Now, I choose to be grateful, strive to be mindful, I pause for peacefulness, am always hopeful, and at prime times I am filled with freedom.

I am quite well-off though of money still poor. Yet I am resistant no more, accepting of all, finding beauty in flaws.

Non-judging, non-harming, I think before I speak. Not manipulative, maybe charming, always non-violent. I preach peace and disarming, knowing when to remain silent.

No longer need to be in control. I don't tend to go tumbling back down the same hole. No longer empty, my spirit's not dying, my mind is bright, my soul is thriving.

I ceased searching outside to find what lies within.

I discovered happiness inside where it always has been.

I am rich beyond my wildest dreams, as ironic as this seems.

I find the more I give away, the more that I win.

surreal poetry
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