In a weeping or faithful moment. What made you certain?

So assured of my own best made plans and lines written to win over judges.

When have we ever really been guaranteed of anything. Nothing and no one is one hundred percent on board with your thinking, mannerisms and suggestions.

Life by nature has an undercurrent of chance and opportunity. It is never simply what you thought or dreamed but the fire you made, the food you prepared and the people with whom you shared it.

We want to keep everything the same, follow the script and are darn sure that the plan is going to get us over the tide of the harmfulness, danger and callous viscosity of the world.

So afraid to dream that our neighbor may find us funny. So quick to fill the mold of unfulfilling projection. So wonderfully intent on finding someone to love us when we never loved ourselves.

Why resist the tide? Why stand strong, ankle deep in the muck and obstructive similitude of temporary existence? Why not find hope in the dream of everlasting? Is acceptance of the real the truest and deepest possible outcome?

I am not the fool that I always thought I’d become. I refused the dinner coat that was embroidered for my misery. This thing called miracle is beyond me and I love that. Waking up to the embodiment of those things within my own head is often greatest nightmare.

If I told you I knew that was a lie just as this heart of circumcision. I cannot give enough fast enough to be sure enough that I surrendered at the outset. Walking in the acquainting hope that God was the only one who ever really knew my real name.

I don’t want to play a game of charades. I don’t want to be the wretch the world accepted so readily. Truth may hurt but the wounds don’t fester and smell after we’ve met and acclimated to being in the moment. Being just who we are where we are and comfortable with all of it.

I stand emotionless with a curly smile braving the face of man who has given up his fear. Not because of some new found or acquired bravery and expectation, but because the darkness was never my friend but welcomed me in its dungeon.

Please don’t think anything of me if it has nothing to do with reason and a moral understanding of appreciation for life and light. Even these short moments are worthy of living, especially when the moments we remember are sweet, difficult or rewarding.

In this life it is hard to avoid the self focus of denying ourselves love which is the greatest irony I’ve ever found. For if we cannot find love then how were we ever able of giving it?