July 15, 2014

 

I want to be love, but I am not love.

I wish I could say that everything I do and everything I pray for is loving and kind and beautiful, but the truth is that there is a darkness inside festering. The depths of humanity are not always kind.

When my emotions fly, I can get vicious. I defend the heart like a lion defends their pride.

I wish I could say that everything I know and everything I stand for is pure and divine, but this darkness inside is mine to bear, and sometimes I share it not knowing another way.

When my body is weak, when my body is strong, when my body does not know where to go and how to sing its song, I bottle myself up, carbonation waiting to explode.

I wish I could say that harmony is the way I grow, that purity is the way I glow, that divine light is immutable, but the truth is that in connection with humans the purity of creation seems to waiver and there is nothing but the shameful, vulnerable shell of the human form.

I want to be love, but I am not love.

I am sadness. I am fear. I am entanglement.

I want to be love, but I am not love. I am hope, I am despair. I am all that is unfair and unsure and unkind.

When I wish I could be love, when I wish I could know love, I beg and pray in the depths of my darkest hour for the breaking light where the naked truth shines its bright horizon, promising more.

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