The Beast and the Light

I feel it pulling at me. I sit here, the world going about its business around me, and I feel it trying to drag me down into its gaping maw. I smile on the outside. I walk around like there is nothing holding me back, but I feel the weight of its chains wrapped around me, and I feel as if I am being crushed. I think of all the things I should be doing, could be doing, would be doing, and wonder why I am doing what I am doing. I can create, yet all I seem to do is destroy. I can entertain, yet can't keep myself from darkness. I feel held back from what I want by what I need, and I feel like what I want is keeping me from what I need. I see opportunity and just want to close my eyes to it. I need it, but can't seem to want it. I look behind me and see it frothing at the mouth, waiting for me to give in. There is also something else. There is a voice I can't yet make out. It is a small, weak voice, but the passion in it makes me seek it out. I search myself, starting in my heart. I find a small piece of something long lost, and I hold onto it as I continue searching for the voice. I feel the beast behind me getting enraged. I sense fear from it. I feel desperation from it. The voice calls to me from somewhere close. I put the snarling thing behind me out of my mind and search harder for the voice. I find another small piece of that long lost thing, and the voice feels closer, sounds stronger. The pull on me is greater than ever as I pull my way forward, searching for that voice. I gather more and more pieces of that precious, long forgotten thing, and the voice gets even louder and stronger. The voice is screaming at me from inside my mind as I lay all those pieces before me. I begin to put them together like a puzzle, and the beast is raging somewhere off in the distance, forgotten and insignificant. As the beautiful thing before me comes together, the voice becomes a soft, comforting, cooing sound in my ear. Warmth begins to sink into me. Colors seem brighter. Sounds no longer grate on my nerves. My smiles are real. My art is inspired again. The pieces all fall together and I finally know the source of the voice. It comes from her eyes, her smile, touch and laughter. In finding her, I find myself. The long lost pieces of me were there all along, and she led me straight to them.