When the Lion Roars

When the scourge arrives there is nothing that can be done.

It must run its course and take you to places you never bargained for at a speed that breaks all the records of land and sea.

Anything can set it off, but it is beyond your control; when the stories come at you all at once and they are missing their happy conclusions, it is best to let them play out. Control is an illusion.

The need to change those who you feel need to be changed.

The need to bend time and space to your will and turn back the hands of time.

The need to block out all the confusion, indulgence, and decadence of others; it is too much to bear on your shoulders.

The need to change it all and hope someday it will move within the space of your grasp.

It is the unflinching and insatiable sense of the chaos around you spinning out of control, like you are trapped on a rollercoaster where you changed your mind after the first 10 seconds…but it is too late. It must speed onward as you hope for a timely resolution.

You want to solve the problems from without, but first you must control the roaring beast of anxiety within.

Maybe I should try breathing techniques.

Maybe I should try to mediate and escape this weary body for a few isolated moments.

Maybe I should get in my car and barrel down the highway at an unsafe level of speed.

Maybe I should do nothing at all.

The result will be the same; it doesn't matter whether you worry or not. Sleep will bring it to heel. Time and a new outlook awaits in the morning when the beast sees the new sunrise.

At least for now, the beast is asleep and all is well.

When will it wake again?