Darkest Before Dawn

On occasion it happens that a person feels as though all the irritants of life are a million minuscule metaphorical ducks, pecking away slowly, dully, relentlessly:  peck... peck... peck... peck. It continues until the urge to scream "ENOUGH" rises in the back of one's throat, and one feels as though nothing except running will relieve the pecking. Peck... peck... peck.

Sometimes in the midst of the ducks, one attempts to escape the present by thinking of the past, or of the future; however, oftentimes the pecking drives away good memories and hope, until one is left with naught but those myriad blunt beaks. Peck... peck... peck.

It is a difficult place to be, for the ducks so often dwell adjacent to (or in) The Void. What can one do, but wait in the dark of The Void until the ducks tire, and then quietly, quietly (lest the ducks awaken again), gather the strength to find the way out of The Void?

When you find yourself in the dark of The Void, or when there are a million ducks, or when you and your million ducks are together in the dark of The Void, at all those times I send to you, metaphorical duck repellent and a metaphysical flashlight. And I repeat to you the words that a wise soul once told me:

It will get better.  It always does.  "Lights and Tunnels." "Darkest before Dawn."  The cliches wouldn't be there, and they wouldn't be cliche, if they weren't true.

Picture copyright 2012, 2014, Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.