Meditating Madness

Last night I realised, that meditation is something I need not force myself to do, for I do so naturally, and have been doing so for a long while, without my realising, until now. I used to think of meditation as being a superior thing from me, like something that I had to hunt down or chase, but I found that it's quite the opposite, it is a superior state that is already within me which I am slowly beginning to unlock and discover, and it is a beautiful feeling.

My body and mind are becoming much more calmer and relaxed with each passing day; sensations of joy and bliss cover me in kisses at times when I least expect it. I feel alive; ecstatic..and no, I'm not on drink or drugs, I am but both drunk and high on love.

In my 'meditations' - my quiet states of solitude..whether alone in my room, or sat amongst crowds of people, I've found myself amongst many thoughts, which have caused me to sweat, bleed and drown myself in a wash of my own tears, but I bathed in and I faced them, I faced my deepest, darkest most blackest fears, head on, and I learned to welcome them with nothing but love, because, you see, I never give up.

No, we women, we 'mad' women; the 'Devil's women,' we never give up, not even in our most darkest of moments, and we would be mad to do such a thing, for it is in those blackest, most painful of moments where we meet ourselves; our true selves, and that is why it is so hard to face, because, you see, deep down, we women are not all that nice, and we are not all that beautiful.

 There is a mystery that lies in woman that even she herself cannot comprehend.

We'll laugh, and then we'll cry,

and we like it, 

but we don't know why.

For we are women,

and we bleed.

Yes,

 I am woman,

and I hurt.

And I'll stand alone, always,

and I'll go alone,
 for the rest of my days,

but you know, 

I like it, that way,

yes, I like it that way.

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