clone

This is the end.
I am a shell. A tomb.
I am where I began.
Naked. Cold. Afraid.
I can only seem to clone myself in patterns that are far too played out.
And even then, the fabric just doesn't seem to hold.
My heart cries out with every stitch removed.
This wasn't made for this.
I wasn't made for this.
Am I where I began?
Or has my digression forsaken my progress?
Backwards. Forwards.
Who can tell with this thick, wet blanket coating everything I know.
I am the opposite of grace.
I am the opposite of humility.
I am the opposite of worthy.
I am the opposite of everything that is good.
I am the opposite of You.
How can we coexist?!
I can see no way to merge.
No possible coalescence.
I can't see anything.
Absolved into a thin piece of remorse,
I am fully prepared to shatter at even the slightest nuance.
I am regret.


But I, dear one, am not.
I am redemption.
I am desire.
I am who you are not.
I am who I am.
I am.

And I believe in you.

Feel the beat of life once more, child.
Sometimes you have to feel the sting of life simply to remember you are alive.
And sometimes you fall.
But fret not, my sweet child.
I am forever yours.
And you are forever mine.
Let that be enough for just this one solitary evening.
We shall face the challenges of the new day on the morrow.
Together.
Now rest.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]