The path

I have a marked out path
though it is often obscured by ignorance,
habit,
and the simple fear of simply looking within.

I seem to be at times swallowed,
dragged beneath the waves,
for a time actually possibly insane,
for while I am under
my thoughts are on the defensive,
a victim trying to right the wrong,
seeking to set the chaotic outer world in place,
an impossible task
something I slowly have learned over the years
for the chaos is simply me at times.

Life a lava flow it seeks expression,
yet scorched earth is of no use,
best not to say anything for a time
or make plans,
perhaps just write,
find someone in which I can simple vent,
someone who knows me,
understands,
who will not be afraid of the rage,
anger or resentment expressed in such colorful
black and white language,
a tantrum,
roots going way back,
way, way, back.

Until the lave flow trickles to nothing ,
reason returns,
it is like waking up
or perhaps coming to the surface of the water
and taking a deep breathe
and perhaps something learned.

Though of course growth in understanding slow,
anything worthwhile often is.
For actions taken in rage or anger
can have life long effects,
seeds planted that have a life of their own,
for is not my own anger a seed planted from my deep past?