I fail to see why I must suffer, but suffer I do. Mainly by my own hand. I am growing i’m told. Fuck that.

I stand in the dark and crave more dark. Why is that ? I held the Light in my mind, at one time. It lit my way towards others and I saw my meaning was Love. I refuse to believe that is not so. Am I just not doing it right ?

Do I need to rush in to hold you by the hand to actualise my Love ? Do I need to carry you through the fire and mud ? Can I step back and watch it come to me ? Do I need to let you carry me ? The grief is gone and I no longer have that to warm me and carry me through the night.The hate has waned and also fizzles when I try to stand within its terrible glow.

I need you, but it seems we are to preoccupied with our own brightly burning bush’s, or the ash’s that lay at our feet. Writing this gives me something to hold onto and do I need something to hold.

There is no beginning or end to life. I am here in it and I am going to have to turn around and face myself. This begs the question. Do I do it now when I can make use of the pen, my strongest asset. Or do I continue to deny my humanity and escape back into the dark, terrible, suffering, again.

I may halt and stumble but I can’t watch that Light of Love fade anymore. I stand before you with my words. That’s all I can see my way through now. If they touch you come and we can use them to make our way forward.