is what's playing right now
and I'm alone again. And I struggle to figure out if by a choice or if it's just that it happened.
It might be both or neither.
The summer is almost upon us, me. And I so yearn for the sky, for the weather to allow me in. Yet, perhaps, even more, I wish for a companion. Someone to release me from the confinements of my castle walls of chaos. I desire to fall, to lose the balance I never had. To further the adventure of life.
All the hard work ahead of me dwarfs my passion for the little own self.
I set myself a task I learned before to stand up to with a bare chest and fearless, only to be bashed back by inevitable circumstance.
Here I stand again, less the momentum I had at my wrist the last time.
Do I falter, do I even flinch? No, I don't. I'm not wired to. I have trained myself to force on consistency and this sort of quiet strength.
Yet, under the surface, like over here, I'm in utter turmoil. I'm looking at a variety of paths, one less safe and easy than the other.
And so, inevitably, avatars of release enter my daydreams. Some of me at strength, some of the various others, holding my hand or onto my hand through the fight for the path on rolling.
I got a glimpse of how strong I could be. It was the other day. My eyes sleeping, eyelids torn apart and pure light poured in, all the way through the flying brain into my heart, momentarily envigorated to the shape of its past glory.
A girl kissed me. And it was on a date too. So, not too unpredictable of an occurrence. Just So forgotten.
This all was a week or so ago and all have since been forgotten, yet the impression of what I could be still lingers around. A note in the air, passing it the everpresent draft: there's power to be had.
I'm cautious, fearful for a died path not to be further stolen away by the story of life, seemingly so inevitably hanging overhead, not allowing any notion of a controlled descent.
Either I persevere and wear the faith down or in me, or I give in and pursue what my heart desires.
The old heart of pure desires.
The old will of odd oaths
The old mind of eternal worry. By the multitude of experience proven worry for the wellbeing of my hearth, and of the whims of my will.
Conflict with no easy avenue into the future. Because an easy avenue seems to feel to me, below me. I've not been born to have it easy. I can't settle down. It'd be a lie if I'd done so. It'd always been and hurt followed and caught up. And apparently never really left.
Maybe, just maybe, if again I loved true, I'd be washed!
If I allowed, If I achieved, the bliss of love's fulfillment.
An unquestionable heart affair, a tour de force of bodily and mental union. Fears and doubts shared and overcome; Maybe then, I'd be able to turn the page, clean the slate; sincerely believing that the purpose of all so far, led right here. And so is justified in the pristine and glorious shine of God, found again, within.
And then I tell my selves that I've since grown up and such a descent from purpose is not excusable.
And it really isn't. The fall would be so hard and so inevitable that the good pilot I am I shall not risk it willingly.
A new uneasy avenue is born. When I'm allowed to fall in love, but not within a paradigm where my purpose is less than the main stage.
Walls to all sides.
Especially on a windy and rainy Saturday like this.
Right at this moment, I'm not ready to battle. I've drunk and em less than in the top shape.
This needs fixing. And that is an easy avenue...
I've done it before.
So, hopefully, by the time I'm writing next, I'll be the sharp-edged warrior again, ready to take on all the hardship that I'm bloody yet to face. Steadily, without flinching, overwhelmingly crushing any opposition.
... you know
