What can I say that you don't already know?
What can I offer of my heart that is not already in your heart?
Does recognition help?
I lose my way. I let myself down. I become overwhelmed with disappointment in my nature. I've entered the fray and opened my mind and heart as far as I'm able. The wicked wind buffets me, whipping my vulnerability with shards. I shake my head and try to see more clearly while the sludge creeps through my synapses, obscuring and dragging. That moment of clarity, so dearly bought and so easily ridiculed. That moment of peace shown for wishful thinking in a world of impossibility. My meager achievements and points of pride, slid away down the chute on a roll of a die I cast with my own hand. Again and again.
These cycles, they bring me here sooner and sooner. And so far, they bring me out each time when I'm ready. I see their colours coming, I feel their subtle probes, and try to ready myself for creative destruction that precedes restoration (each time, I grasp for hope that this is so). As I learn to observe what I feel and how I feel about what I feel, I come closer to accepting myself with love. Again and again.
So often, she sings me back. Musical Accompaniment from Queen Kate.
Kate Bush Sat in Your Lap
Tender
