Ripples

A budding sprout of anxiety dances unceremoniously on the walls of your stomach. That initial ripple is barely perceptible, and a slight dislocation of objective reality occurs. You lose your orientation for just that nibble of time; helpless, however, as refreshing leaves clamour towards and upwards your gullet, eager to flirt with the innocent taste buds. Then anxiety renounces itself, and emerges once again as panic, harbouring dreams of becoming fear. Should I describe its flavour as salty? Tangy? Ultimately irrelevant, as you now usher in the symphony of raised heartbeat, flushed cheeks and a rapidly drying mouth. Uncertain reality as we know and mould it slips further down the slope of the Supreme Illusion. Nonetheless we continue to be helpless to it all. If anxiety thus escalates effortlessly to fear, let us bow our heads to petition the Divine, to likewise hasten the sluggish footsteps of our joy.