Days pass like the sharp intake of breath when you walk outside into the heavy summer heat. The world revolves slowly as it orbits the sun, the days growing longer, only to hit that point in its elliptical orbit, where the days grow shorter rather than longer. Seasons that fade in and out of time, the days a mere blink of the eye.
Nothing is accomplished. Nothing completed. Her life just a blink of an eye, her hopes and dreams crushed by the onslaught of time. Energy escapes her body and merges with the heavens; this body, depleted and worn, falls to the ground like a broken sack of sand, its guts spilled onto the forest floor. The leaves, twigs, and moss all poke her body, but it does not move for she is above it, watching as it slowly decays into the ground. The insects eat through her flesh and organs, until she is nothing more than a piece of the soil, decomposed and ready to feed the roots of trees and berry bushes.
The light of her soul is faded, barely discernible. Years ago she had been called bright, iridescent, and filled with life. Now it has faded nearly to the point of blackness, a void. She had lived past her appointed time, and now her withered soul felt the stretched feel, the sensation of being spread over too much ground. No emotions are left. The tears had long been shed; the droplets fallen like rain on a summer day. Now there is nothing. Nothing but the endless void of time with its bright beginning and its dark end.
of my being.
blood and water.
When I seek truth, it is never what is expected. Reality is a twisted creation that can transform in the blink of an eye. It distorts and warps with the power of belief, and often what is truth has been lost by this alteration of reality.
What is love? What is truth? Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice his son to prove his love and loyalty, and yet in the end, was it not Abraham that was testing God? If God allowed the death of Abraham’s only son, then is God worth worshiping? Why worship pain and agony?
God stopped Abraham’s hand. Showed that God is love. Yet, in this age of disbelief and suffering, where is this God of love? Truth has been hidden. Love has been neglected and thrown aside for petty gratification or fear of love’s binding commitment. If you do not know yourself, if you are lost in your own life, how can you be there for another? How can you love anyone if you do not truly know and love yourself?
For years, I have sought answers to those questions. I have dug deep, far deeper than I ever have before and what I have discovered is no Balrog like the dwarves of Moria. No, it is the darkness of my soul that lies in the shadows of my light. There is darkness and light in us all, but many do not wish to see the darkness within them, to see their weaknesses and faults. To be shown them and to face them for it brings pain and uncertainty and most of all a gnawing doubt that this is all we are. These faults and weaknesses, which makes us vulnerable to either hurting others or others exploiting us. Yet if we do not dig deep and seek ourselves, our true selves, and see what we are, then how can we ever truly know ourselves?
I have great faults. I have my weaknesses, but I have my strengths as well. The light within my heart still shines, even as it is clouded with pain and grief. For several years I wondered if my light, that had brightened my way and those of whom I loved, had somehow died. That perhaps I was past my appointed time, and I was living for nothing.
To think such thoughts is to give in to the darkness in my soul. No, I have worth. People may consciously or even unconsciously try to take my worth, dash my hopes, exploit my loyalty and love, but in the end, they will fail for in the end, I am myself and I am alone. I walk alone in this life, and I recognize that this is never what I wanted. To be alone.
Naked in the dark, a ring of fire engulfs my vision. I have seen the possibilities within my future, and I have seen the pain and suffering that is forever imprinted on my past and future. The questions I demand of God have gone unanswered, for I am left with riddles for answers, riddles I do not understand and cannot decipher and so I have no answers.
What is love? It is the giving of one’s spirit to another. Who would do this? No one on this earth, and it is folly to think anyone would dare try. To do so would be to leave one so vulnerable and exposed that the fear of such a thing would destroy any chance to truly give of oneself to another. Yet, this is what I do. Again and again, I give of myself to another; I purposely leave myself exposed and naked in their presence, and again and again I am smited, exploited, torn asunder, or left behind as the other runs. My heart bleeds from such wounds, and I weep from the grief. I try to cloak myself in anonymity or seek an activity that will spirit me away from this pain, this truth of who I am. I give to others far more than I give to my own self, but even then, even when I try, I am left with nothing but the air in my hands and the tears on my cheeks.
I am weary. My soul is spent. I need rest, but I will not find any here. No, not in this world. I must continue forward, all the while knowing that in my uncertain and nebulous future, I am bound to experience more pain and suffering amidst brief and glorious joys. My hope of not being alone still exists, but it is frail. I have sought myself, and what I have found both frightens and amazes myself. There is potential but there is also despair.