There’s a part of me that wants to get up.
Get up and write that part of my soul that only my night self knows…
the part of me that knows all the truest parts of me.
That ghost in the night…
I resist it most nights, but then there are nights that I can’t, and I succumb to the call of the words that tear at my inner being, the ones that want to surface and tell all…the ones that never come out in the day light. I don’t know them, but they know me. They are the ones who haunt me and tease me, and plague my inner thoughts.
They are my demons.
Plagued by my thoughts, yet somehow driven by the songs of the wind and the sea.
It lives inside of me and thrives, but yet is somehow stifled, pushing at the fringes to come out and live and be free.
It wants to be free.
It wants to sing with the wind and flow in the gentle breeze that blows through my window.
I am love; I am life.
I am all.
I am one and I am nothing.
God flows within and without.
God is in me always.
Yet I know we are just a reflection.
What a beautiful reflection…
A tentacle of our being stretching to all limits of what we can possibly imagine…or not.
Help me to soar, help me to be…to be who I am meant to be.
Smells intoxicating, illuminating…all pervasive engulf my senses…sensual, erotic, but beyond that which can be explained by the mere senses of the body…
a sense, which is felt within and cannot be described
a sense that takes over the knowing and goes beyond description.
I long to be home and in your loving arms.
To be where I belong in the perfection of your imagination of what you intended us to be.
Why have you put us here as such imperfect beings striving to come home to you and be perfect again?
Why do you tease us with these delusions?
I know I am part of you.
I plead with you, my God.
Bring me home to you.
Let me know thy perfection so I might stop dallying with silly paltry worries of nothingness.
None of this matters…
I know this, yet I cannot keep myself from the pain of the false worries, the false delights…
the nothingness of the emptiness or the false joy of the delusory glory.
It means nothing, and I know it…yet I worry nonetheless.
I feel guilt over and over and over, for things that are inconsequential, things imaginary, things perceived, or believed.
When will you come to me, God? When will I find you?
I know you are here within me, yet I feel so alone. And then I don’t…
You are the light and you are the dark
You are the pain and you are the joy
You are everything and you are nothing
You are within and you are without
I love you, my light and my soul
You complete me….
You ARE me…