My Child, Remember And Be Wise, In “Good Enough” Disaster Lies

"Let me know that you hear me
Let me know your touch
Let me know that you love me
And let that be enough."
-Switchfoot
These nights own the depths of my mind. Preoccupation is not something I lack– everywhere my mind searches for silence, and instead brings up handfuls of white noise voices. I’m looking for some common sense, looking for some understanding. Instead my mind is boxed at every corner by opposing interests and lack of sensitivity. Yes, I am sensitive to that. I have found my greatest hope, my one, true, burning desire, the soul that sets my soul on fire. I have found the one being on Earth that I would give my life to, the one man that I would sew my future to. I have found the one for whom I would forsake a life alone (and forsake all others). I am sensitive to that. My heart is fragile. My heart is gentle. I’m strong on the surface, not all the way through…
 
For you I would be healthier, more beautiful, every physical thing I could be that I am not. For you I would climb mountains and tackle bears, fly airplanes and ride bareback mares. For you I would blow everyone away on my motorcycle, and become a snowboarding champion, I would invent something brilliant, I would be the world’s best companion. For you I would be more witty, more pretty and smart. I would memorize the works of Shakespeare and become a work of art. For through my eyes, in the mirror I see no miracles, no svelte chanteuse. I do not see a mystery– nothing there but plain ol’ me. Marry me, still. Marry me, marry me, I lay down my life. I want, more than anything, for you to make me your wife.
 
My nimble fingers have become numb and cold and stiff, trying to write a masterpiece that just won’t come. Instead of finding my inspiration, I feel farther from it some days than I will ever be. I wish I could make sense of the dull melancholy that rises in my throat like dry ash, sometimes. I cannot find a way to douse the flames of my passion. Instead, I am overcome by the embers, and in my eyes you will find them, still.
 
My heart has never been happier, and yet sometimes, I feel heavy, with the life that I have lived. I smile, and look forward, and pray that I can be enough. I have known the pain, the deep chasm of not being enough. I wish, with all of my sway and the entire power of my very being that I will be fulfilling, that I will say yes enough, and mean it. I pray that I will bend enough, and want it. I pray that I will be strong enough, and take it.
 
My heart. My poor, well-lived heart. Your function has seen many suns and many moons. You have spent nights under the stars, and you have spent days being bruised. You have refused to utter a beat, as I have refused to speak. You have laid down the law and taught me what limits you are willing to reach. I pray that those horizons fall upon a distant shore from your sandy beach, and you will never again see that sun set. I pray that I will never witness the effect of how my tears accumulated could outweigh the sea.
 
When the hour has grown so late that the very minutes that pass are etched upon my rubbed-raw eyes, I will wish, pray, beg… …that I will be enough.
 
♥Kдśśị
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~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 02/10/2009.

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