Sunday, November 9, 2008

Rough Poetry and Raw Truth

I am not who I want to be. Self has too much of a hold on me. I struggle and then I gasp as the struggle sends me flying like a door you lean on with all your strength until someone opens it and you sprawl across the floor.

I am tired, fatigued and I think that's not right. I smile but I frown when I think about my life. I know it won't stay the same, it can't, can they sustain the change that's coming? Not that I know the hows and wheres and I only think I sniff a whiff of the what that might be coming.

I am growing beyond this, I think, though not at a rate that doesn't leave me crying in disappointment. I hope it's only getting humbled, not true and abject failure. I yearn to not forget the who I've vowed to be. Maybe I will earn the death I ask for...

No, that statement is made in the ignorance of the moment just past. I know I earn nothing, I do nothing, I just am. Yet I am loved for being simple, unadorned. I am important, but not treasure. Not yet. Maybe never.

Little lumpy me, I will try to throw mySelf into the fire. And if I fall out, to brave it again. Oh scorch me, Light, scorch me! Try me and do not let mySelf win! Please, till it is only pure ore refined.
Search me, my truest Friend, know me, and Miracle-Existant love me, I dare to hope, love me

How weak I am!

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