Rage: it’s what we push onto others when we can’t stomach the threat of it ourselves.
It’s where the need leads us; the need to be vindicated, the need to have all our fears realised and justified. The need which leads us to use others, because that threat; that threat is too dire to face.
It’s the end point, the logical conclusion of all those dark alley-ways, all those dark roads which we turn away from, pull away from, to pursue lighter pathways and easier, softer climes. All that fear we push away and turn away from- because to contemplate it would take us lower than we care to go, lower than we think is palatable.
But in the night time the sense of it is remembered, the tone it sets in our minds echoes back from somewhere- the traces of it we were unable to turn away from completely, like ghosts catch us unawares and we feel a shiver as a finger runs it’s way down our spine.
That fear makes us angry, I turned the other way, I turned away from this, I don’t deserve-
Then comes on the sense, fear, that there is something else at work, something else which holds a power greater than our own and might not follow our orders for what is right and what is wrong; a sense that there are other forces at play within our very selves which might eventually overwhelm our own direction.
Ugly forces govern the deep pools of our mind, ugly forces battle with our own will to pull away, swim up swim up! To follow lighter pathways and maintain the sense of what is right.
Deep currents pull and tug, storms rage on regardless.
Rage bubbles up like larva from broken rock when our seismic forces shift so far that our own moral compass is out of line; when our deep values are unearthed as nothing more than dust and air.
In the night-time this sense of underworld, this sense of ghosts fingers trailing down our spine is recalled and our ability to hold the ground stable beneath our minds eye is tested.
Tested, tested tested- I turned the other way, I turned away from this, I don’t deserve-
Rage: the souls larva, the self-face of greatest tumultuous upheaval- when night-time ghosts hold thrall over the underworld of the unknown and grave and dastardly potentials seem imminent.
Rage: the self-face of our embittered defiance, the vast force we thrust outward onto the world so that it does not consume our inner world; the force we skirt around to use, dance around to function.
The force which tears out of us as we let go entirely, and roars when the sense of I don’t deserve, I don’t deserve is broken down, and completely and entirely consumed.
The tail of the serpent reaching the mouth.
Despair: the aftermath.
It was all for nothing, it was all for nothing..
Mad new world 