Let Go

He couldnt escape them. Those horrible twisted thoughts that the world had treated him unfairly. So he stared deep down into the stomach turning abyss and contemplated everything unseemly. After a moment or two, he began to come to. Upon wounded knee and a pair of bloodied knuckles, he beckoned. Pleading as if screaming in some sort of inappropriate prayer. 'Twas beneath those stars and the crescent moon on this blackened night whence he came face to face with that most magnificent sight. A presence of unseen luminescence. Call it what thou wilt. Infinite love's what he felt. In that state of angst, tears, agony and turmoil; he found something impossibly profound. Whispering within through his heart of hearts, yet not quite sung from his own tongue... She spoke: "Glory be unto I and thus unto Thee. Nothing is troublesome in itself. 'Tis the loathing that makes it so. Therefore, We ought to let it go." And then with his eyes closed almost shut, he shuffled all the way back to his humble little hut. Totally and utterly content with the message the angel had sent, our protagonist slept like a bear in the depths of winter. The next day he awoke to the warmth of a summer the likes of which he'd never witnessed before. And that's how it was for the bloke of no note. Not all melancholics must succumb to a pitiful fate. All one need do is let go of the hate.