Making Space

Who's that in the mirror, unrecognizable?
Balancing all these worries is ever inadvisable.

The wrench of suffering, where does it spawn?
Resistance and rejection of random phenomenon.

I am in control! This thing can be forced.
From this dangerous myth let me be divorced.

That piteous show takes my energy and more,
it fills me to the brim from ceiling to floor.

Anxiety is a monster, it's grip squeezes tight
when any moment chaos can bite;

Cellphone from my hand dropping into the sea,
fifty red bites from one tiny flea.
A call from Mom about Dad's fall,
the feeling that life doesn't mean anything at all.

This ridged grip upon my perceptions
will suffocate good things, don't fall for deceptions.

The only thing to control is the expression on my face.
To laugh with great pleasure or rage out in space.

The choice is mine, how to react
when inevitable unpleasantness sneaks up to attack.

I'm choosing this moment, enough is enough!
I've allowed for too much of this suffering sob stuff.

It's time to clear out, I'm making space
to do all the things I loved in the first place.

Within this great room, finally vacated
of the things that left me sad and frustrated,

there you are. I remember your smile.
At last, this unpacking is all worth the while.

Dancing around in all this free space
is the realest me, a perfect place.