Buoyant Melancholy

Pale blue swirls of melancholy hold me.
Who would have thought that sadness could be buoyant?

My spirit reads like an emotional campaign.
Defeat comes only with combat and I have no passion left for battle.

I am weary.

I find respite in these blue swirls.
I flow with them, allow them to carry me where they may go.
I am spent from swimming against the current,
from treading water in a bid for air and understanding.

With pain and angels intertwined I descend below the surface 
and trust that I am one with it all. 
That for a moment, I can NOT be.
That I am whitewashed walls in a land with no light,
air within a vacuum. 
That I cannot be empty for the receptacle is a fallacy.

This is it.

Pale blue swirls of buoyant melancholy.