Nothing can ever prepare you for what's going to come. You have to trust what you've seen and heard. But if it came from a place that was unexpected, what am I supposed to do? It hit me when I least expected and from the person I never thought would. I still love. I can't hate. But how is it possible?
Ruminations cross my mind: am I going to die?
Still water is deadly, yet I cannot escape the thought of delving deeper into the bottomless ocean.
I am plummeting, the tapestry hiding my cracked walls is fading.
Into the far distance, a light shines brightly for all to see, yet welcomes only a few.
Glancing at what is not mine through a piece of glass gives comfort to my soul.
Abiding with others, fellowship, being appreciated, such a loving feeling.
Yet when will that day arrive for my life to finally be solidified?
The herald arrives, stand, shout for joy, my day has finally arrived.
Jubilation springs forth in my mind, cogitations halt the celebrations.
A fire will burn you if you get too close; do not venture far.
There is a safe fire within the furnace, except it is perhaps not meant for me.
The evening wind blows over people's singing voices, besides my own.
A parched throat waiting to be called for, an unnecessary existence.
Flowery walls can't hide the disdain and humiliation I feel.
I cannot conceal myself, to be exposed is to be vulnerable.
To try is to offer yourself a challenge, turning the wheel of misfortune.
A leap is needed to reach the top, although can the top be at the bottom?
An intentional fall to disgrace, that is what life throws at me.
Perseverance is in everything I do, even if my line of vision lies on the other side.
My canopy has made me accustomed to the feeling of comfort in discomfort.
I will reach you, for you are only one step away from me and I from you.
Into the wilderness I tread, chasing your steps through uncertainties.
The harbinger is on his way, and I can hear him blowing his trumpet.
He flies down to pick me up and I'm on my way to you.
Why is the sky dark, and why is the one holding me turning to dust?
I have no footing, neither in the heavens nor on the earth below.
My place, my home, my life, my hope, where shall I put it?
I will never ask for a chance again, therefore do not let me stumble.
Do not let my final moments be filled with anguish and doubt.
It will never pass, it shall never be, I know where I belong.
Not in the heavens, on the earth or in anything in between.
Just like how we will return to dust as we die.
So will I when I fall fro