My name is curiosity
Hope is my cousin, and fear is my mother
Curiosity tells me to look out into my future
And I see a dark ocean surrounded by a fog
My hope believes the fog is but a cape covering the light
Am I only delusional with my hope,
To assume things are beautiful past the dark fog I see?
My fear pushes around hope like a child with a stick
Pocking and picking at her naive innocence
Time has passed
Now when I look out into the dark ocean of my future I can see a faint light behind the fog
But still, what is this light?
An angel with a golden aura?
Or a killer with the flare of his gun?
When I look out into the future I am acquainted with hope and fear.
But the beauty of mystery keeps me looking forward
Am I ready for the mystery and beauty of an ocean?
As much as I am excited, I am scared
Being attracted to what I’m scared of, and even terrified of
And I am petrified of the unknown.
At night when I try to turn out the lights my curiosity seeps in
Will my night light kill the fear or feed my PTSD?
To feed fear is to turn on the light
And like a beast it will grow
A savage to gnaw on your soul
But the darkness itself is nothing but a color
But my curiosity and imagination like to whisper in my ear
The fear stands up on his two twiggy legs,
Walking and clawing and staring inside the dark inches away from my face
But once the lights come on, my curiosity fades
And I think, "what a shame"
Why is it that I am so uncontrollably in love with what I cannot understand
And never will understand?
Because my curiosity tells me that though I am scared of the unknown
Petrified of it...
There might be something in the unknown.
Something that could make me feel elevated in wisdom and understanding
As high as my adrenaline elevates when I get scared
Because on the opposite end of fear lies freedom
And If I had the ability to take a chance with the unknown,
I might access the opposite end of fear once I have walked through it.
And once the fear of the unknown has vanished all that lies is the beauty and wisdom
Just as when the water fades all that remains are fish for the picking
Once I let myself drown for just a short moment in time,
I might harvest my very own fish of wisdom.