I’m forever indebted to my suffering. It rips me open to expose the clueless nature within everything I hold dear. This idea of me held together by cobwebs, so easily broken, and so easily ensnared.
There’s a fragile little boy in me, simultaneously carried within a warriors heart. Times of great confidence, and times where I completely fall apart.
What remains -is still my favorite thing, a love that allows it all to be; a love -that inspires to let this heart sing.
To arrive, will always be the distant illusion. To be here, completely open, will always be the final resolution.