Straight out of the shower

All cleansed and baggage free. Just pure. Like drenched in the rain. The soul dripping with the essential juices of its being. The thoughts pouring out in fast succession, falling out one on top of the other, toppling over each other to get out, quickly. All mixed up. Losing original form, texture and colour and emerging out intermingled, like beads in a rosary. Together purposeful and individually unique but incomplete. I feel light, and happy, and clear. Not quite there with what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life-clear, but clean. Neat and clean. Lots of to-dos hanging in my closet. They lie strewn around, some carelessly, some fearfully. They need to be brought out, dusted, aired, space created for them and then folded neatly and piled up in their marked shelves, like all things sorted with a place and a purpose. Who can I ask for help on this one? I am not brave enough to tackle these dark shadows all on my own. They aren’t the unknowns, but the very opposites. The known dark monsters. They know you and hold on to you by your weaknesses. They know the limp smells and they feed on them to get mightier. My helper on this one can either be a rank outsider, not in the know of what they are getting into and therefore, with the unique strength of remaining unattached through the gruesome ordeal or it could be someone who would be willing to take on these creatures knowingly, whose limp fears will make them even mightier. But the holding of hands and locking of the fearful eyes will help. The monsters, now twice in might, will now come face to face with love, empathy and the sheer conviction of solemn oaths taken to see each other through the best and the worst that there can be. I would rather be battered and bruised and lay in a dark murky swamp, hanging on to the slight hope of a floating tree with you by my side, than fly free like a bird into the sunset of life, all sorted with not a sign or smell of you. That much I am clear on. Maybe that’s the clarity of a tea-tree shower.