In meditation,
I enter a vast room
at the center of my mind.
One wall is filled with
screens flickering with light.
Two giant gates on opposite sides.
Behind me,
a pool flowing into another pool,
and above it—
a chair.
She sits there.
My higher self.
Cloaked like a shadow,
still and knowing.
And me?
I sit in that room,
surrounded by darkness,
waiting for a flicker of light.
Sometimes it comes.
But the darkness…
it never fully leaves.
Sometimes it swallows me whole.
No one hears my screams.
No one sees the war
beneath my skin.
I think of ending it.
Not for drama—
but for stillness.
For silence.
I don’t belong.
Not to a place.
Not to a tribe.
Not to a world
built for masks.
But maybe—
just maybe—
I belong to one person.
And maybe he
belongs to no one too.
Marzieh B blog 