This uplifting resonance dissipates
like the wind
and I look to you to gather it
The comfort of your warmth holds me
tighter, I ask of you
I often have thought that writing challenges are nonsensical. How does one force themselves to write? And yet I find myself thinking of doing just that.
Strange what circumstance makes of us. This is my first post in which I, myself, am writing as me, and after such a long hiatus too, but is that not the state of a human being? That they evolve and change? With the wind pushing in one direction and then another. And another. And another.
Maybe I am just trying to justify the changes that I am going through right now but I feel that now is the time to let my wings free and venture into the unknown. And believe me, I am not one to venture out of my comfort zone.
Here’s to new ways. And hopefully better ways.
(I look at this post and despair of how many times I’ve written ‘I’.)
There is a voice in my head that tells me only You can fill my heart
and the demons inside me fight it.
And I fight the demons
Knowing their whispers bring my destruction.
Sowing seeds of doubt, delicate stitching,
With thin, black string warping the tendrils of my heart
and thoughts flitting past,
I cannot catch them.
Fearing the day the blackness within me finds it’s way to my tongue,
after all, the soul emerges through conversation
and the tongue is a powerful weapon that can sow your destruction.
And I need to find the strength to fight them.
A path weaved of many paths,
Borne from the actions of one and the thoughts of another.
Twisting and turning, carving, walls towering, ensnared from every side, keenly observing. Which path? What will be and what will become of me?
Valleys sweeping low through the hillside, paving the way through dense fog, stumbling. Or climbing, over dark and heady air, breathe and breathe again, in and out.
Inhale the the sweetness of the coolness surrounding me. A warm embrace guiding through the unknown, so many paths to the one destination.
I am not convinced of the path ahead. Two steps left, one step right. A puzzle missing pieces, no victory, no conclusion in site.
Yet to stand still with so many opportunities. Only a fool stands still.
Take the first step.
Who dared to tell me that I am more then I am and what made me think that I am so significant,
When once I did not even know I existed and once I curled into the warmth surrounding me,
Dependant on one I had not yet met although I instinctively recognised her as my mother.
Today, I am aware of my existence yet tomorrow,
I may be worm fodder. Six feet under
and these bones clothed with flesh will blacken until I am unrecognisable.
And those who love me will not know me.
Tomorrow a home will be built upon my bones
Not knowing I lie underneath,
Once thinking myself so high
Yet just as those before me,
I returned to my Maker.
I am worm buffet. Six feet under
and tomorrow I may return to my Maker.
When It rains,
His Mercy pours;
It has been a year and for so long it has stayed with me.
The resentment in my heart grows,
not for it, but what it invoked within me.
And I have tried to rid my self of this infestation
and still it oozes.
Truly do the consequences of your actions live long,
a blackened tar upon your soul
Fight for you, I say. Fight for who you are and who you know yourself to be.
And do not let another define who you become.