Tuesday, January 12, 2010

It feels like a terrible storm
and I am held up in a rickety shack.

Shutters are flapping violently.
I am getting wet,..and cold,.. so cold.
Horrible threatening sounds of thunder pound at my chest.
Bolts of lightning, like daggers flung into my eyes,..
meant to jest.

Ghosts from childhood keep a constant vigil
for this wavering soul they have clung to relentlessly,...
to this form, now changing.

I see their faces one by one.
I remember the gruelling parts they have played,..
in my life.

I have not made peace with them,..yet.
I can not let them go,.. just yet.

They are deserving of these final days of Darkness.

In truth, they made me strong...
In truth, I picked them.

Now, once again, I remember who I am...
I sit strait and calm transcending the chaos.

My Spirit Father, lovingly reminds me,
'our house' is the mansion,
just a short walk through the valley
and up the hill.