Lately, I feel fingers scratching at the edges of reality.
It’s like those moments when you first wake,
when you slowly come aware,
when you remember you have a body and a bed in the darkness
when everything downloads itself back into your brain
and then you pick up where you left off.
There is more to all of this
(there has to be)
meaning behind the madness
not God but… something. Something out there that I can make sense of.
I created these walls around me. I painted them brightly. They protect me.
When I grew weary of boundaries, of need, of being hurt by others,
I changed myself. I made it so that I would reduce hurt,
so I could expect more from myself and less from others
I set my own terms and began dreaming bigger and achieving more.
And here I am, in the dwelling I desired
Full, ripe, plentiful, rich
So carefully contained in this space
the one I created
and wondering what else is out there to be discovered.
I love it here, but I’m outgrowing it, I can feel it.
The old itch is returning, the one that tells me I need to change.
I need. To change. I need. More. I need. (What is it I need?)
Desire, lust, forgiveness, sanctification, release, horizons, animal passion, to be seen, to be heard, to feel loved, to forgive, to change the world.
Lately, I feel fingers scratching at the edges of my reality.
They mean something. Some success, some discovery, something
Right around the corner.
And it’s going to require me spilling over the edges of this container I’ve built and embracing.
Embracing. Risking. Trying.
It’s right there.