What is this craziness? This lunacy that dwells beneath my palpitating heart? Unorthodox at best; sheer madness at the worst, yet this is my truth – my reality. I wait earnestly for the day your beauty no longer allures me – for when your understanding spirit no longer pulls me, when your pure heart fails draws me forward. It is like trying to grab a person through the bars of a prison and pulling them out of the cell without having access to the key. No matter how far I reach or how hard I pull, you’ll never be any closer than these iron bars allow.
No no no… I have this backwards, don’t I? You aren’t the one imprisoned. You aren’t the one enslaved to the passions of the heart you once held for this currently pitiful guy lying in the darkness, are you? Instead, I’m reaching out to you and trying to pull MYSELF out of this cage – trying to squeeze through these bars so I can pursue you once again, for pursuit holds no meaning when the means to run have been shackled. You won’t even look at me, let alone help to break me out. I reach for your hand, grabbing nothing but the stale air between my fingers. Why won’t you free me? Why won’t you reach out for that which once made you feel special, loved, worth the fight and effort?
I’m a muzzled hound, unable to speak despite the nearly overwhelming urge to do so. At the end of my rope, I let go and fell through the roof of this dungeon because I lacked a long enough rope to lower myself down gently. Surrounded by the suffocating aroma of cupcakes, I close my eyes and try to drift out of this conscious nightmare. My mind begins to wander and lands me in the middle of a deserted shore loaded with Beautiful Seashells. I panic and awake to the sound of gasping – my own lungs trying to catch enough air. All of it an illusion of course, never far from the center of my mind.
I remember peace and comfort in the solitude of your embrace. So beautiful, so write, yet never before has it been so far away. When I don’t know what else to do, I read. And I pray. And I try to let the comfort of Someone greater than myself cover my shivering frame like a blanket to fend off the biting breeze as it blows right through my drenched and dripping soul.
Such are the thoughts of a driven man – propelled by the love he is forced to suppress. What happens when an immovable object meets and unstoppable force?
06192010/07032010 – 01012011