Fireflies…

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My thoughts are fireflies dancing with the heat of a mid-summer night. The glistening yellow beacons pierce the emptiness of the black heavens. I’m an observer while my sanity escapes from the mania of madness. It fills the atmosphere in a pastoral dance to the grasshopper’s sonata. With a trusty bell jar, I attempt a rescue my sobriety. I recapture some of my fireflies and keep them safe. The bell jar is an opaque enclosure inveigling my ratiocinative thoughts. They have sovereignty over my mania. My mania aggrandizes like an inferno under the concealment of obscurity. The pyre nurtures the vivacity into a doppelganger between mania and depression. There is no tranquility in sleep, only the forlornness night. The hours sulk away to the cessation drum of eradication. The placidity of the night is the lunacy of isolating depression. All my fireflies vanished in the vacuities atmosphere, and those in my bell jar have expired. The solitary night is the homogeneity of depression; metamorphosing without the sagacious revolution between sanity, mania, and depression.

Bipolar is a serious mental illness, with many difficulties and I wanted to share these difficulties. I wrote this poetic essay about living with bipolar when I was in graduate school. During my last year of graduate school, I was checked into the psychiatric hospital three times. Despite this, God blessed me and I graduated on time with a MFA in Photography and Digital Imaging. Years of therapy and growing in my walk with Jesus has lessened the effects of these difficulties.I still struggle, but I know Jesus is with me always. I want to equip churches, pastors and others to walk along people afflicted with mental illness. God has blessed me and I want others to understand His amazing grace through His son's death and resurrection.

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