I. Was. Tired. I was tired of listening to the voices of everyone around me telling me who to love, what to do, how to do it and when. I was a broken record, a dark space. I was a voice with no listeners. I was a trumpet with no echo. I was losing. My life was being sifted through the colander of testing and what was being left behind was not enough. It. Was. Not. Enough. To Show. For. The gold was there after the fire had convulsed and consumed every bit of dross around it. But, the nuggets were small. The fire returned… More convulsing and consummating of wood, hay, and stubble.
My dreams. My dreams have led me into a path of uncertainty. My dreams have led me to a place with beauty but no intimacy. My dreams have led me here- to be alone. Perhaps that’s exactly what I’m needing right now anyway?
Who am I? What am I here on Earth for? Why is life so hard? Where are the “true” people? Where are the loyal ones? Where are the caring ones? Where are the people who don’t just look out for themselves- but care? Where are the ones that care for the small. Where are the ones that care for the new guys? Where are the ones that care for the voiceless?
Hope. Hope is the anchor of the soul. In a time of waiting. In a time of unknowing. Cling. Wrap your fingers around the passion in your being- the person of love who dwells in spirit and grip. Don’t. Let. Go. Of. Hope.