Creature of Love

Eyes. Once again, the most compelling piece of God's creation have taken my soul captive. Piercing through my toughest skin, they gaze upon even my most naked being, knowing me, engulfing me, understanding me. Just when I think it impossible to be enraptured by such an entity, I am whisked away into bliss; or as I know it, foreverness among the deepest of spirits.

My brokenness is gracefully mended amidst the throngs of passion while the essence of my being is carefully mended back together. A patchwork of life's stories are once again pieced together in an effort to make sense of chaos. Accomplishment, then, is found in the pleased eye of the beholder as he studies his subject of love, lavishing his love upon his subject.

In between the lines is where I have been hiding. I did not go unnoticed, though, and I was brought out of the cold. Warmth of togetherness and true fellowship surrounded me, thawing my frigid bones, transforming me into the creature from whence I came. My purpose rediscovered, my being presses onward toward a prize of unmeasurable peace.

Insanity

Lately I cannot seem to put into words the insanity, the crazy that enraptures my mind. Like a stream flowing nowhere, currents twist and turn, churning thoughts into gibberish. Synapses that once effectively carried impulses to their logical destination. Now these pathways are full of holes, randomly sending pieces of my life spiralling into the abyss. This is the disconnect that I have feared the most; it is happening and I cannot fathom stopping it.

When the body shuts down, I have always pondered the extenuating circumstances that could have contributed to the decline. In my own case, I wonder what dreadful experience or trauma triggered my emotional lapse. Witnessing first hand a rapid physical descent, I know that the body followed the mind, aimlessly led astray by unknown demons. I live in a dream, a perilous and infinite labyrinth that desecrates the goodness of life. How does it end?

Rebuilding is easier said than done. Once your body has washed up on the shore, broken, battered and alone, it is difficult to imagine constructing a new home. Forgetting the tools you once used, the passions you once enjoyed, it becomes taxing to contemplate moving, much less actually doing so. There are options that seem easier, pathways that require no thought or emotion. These, however, should not, cannot, are not viable solutions. I wait.