Now I’m Absolved

Today I met epiphany. Calm, oblivious, intangible. Soothing the eyes; letting the seas of darkness welling up crystallize. Fierce enough to seam a rug of melancholy. I felt it warming me. Soundlessly whispering You've been absolved. An angelic whisper clouding the shards of venom.

I believed it, anyway. And now it's pricking. Raging within.

I'm now absolved of everything -- fumes of guilt generated within, traces of dark lies puked, and more than anything else, fear of my fate lashing me out. I'm fortunate to be baptised in an unusual way. But still I'm curled up somewhere. Waiting for things to get better. To have the bliss of normality. May be I'm doomed NOW. Accursed to be baptised by the destiny. After all destiny has its own way, you know. It gives a little more everytime you're confronted with it. It's something beyond rationality. Its ways can't be contemplated. I sinned, leaving blemishes to be undone. Destiny amended all, lashing out at me. I sinned. It amended.

And now, I'm nothing. The Baptist has robbed me. It left my fear, sobs, worries, and all the little motes of me EXPOSED. It left my conscious bare. It baptized me in the dark. It made me learn the sufferings without me even knowing. I was baptised. Not once. Not twice. But countless times. Remorselessly. I grimaced in fear. Shrieked. Let out the sick cry. Not once. But often. I let my sufferings bare. Leaving myself more fragile than ever. I saw the ruin. Such that has no end. If not pacified during day, hounds you in the dark. One carrying an insatiable lust. Lust of Baring out. Lust of Exposing the scars untraceable. Scars carved in the pure specter.

The purification outgrew my sins in oblivion.

I got a little more. Suffered a trifle more; days and nights brimming with profanity. That's how I got absolved. Yet, I'm cringing somewhere deep, trembling, waiting for the next moment of stark fury. One grimly tainted with fears and lashings, absence and effeminacy.

I'm absolved but smote enough times to cocoon my head. To sleep away the trail of melancholy. I'm absolved but all I'm left with is to put up with a trifle more of misery.

I'm absolved but left with a brutal pounding.