I’m having a hard time dealing with what I’ve been asked to do. Or maybe, I’m having a hard time dealing with what I’ve asked to do.
I can’t tell the difference from one day to the next.
One moment, I’m choosing and the next I’m resisting.
I think, “it’s hard here – why me?”
And the next moment, I know this is the only path worth choosing – all the others simply slow the journey through llusion, avoidance and denial.
I pray for this and I scream from it.
“Not my will but Yours.” is the suicidal vow of the little i on the journey towards its own end. A journey that only just begins with the assertion.
It begins and gapes and gets behind you and crawls into your emotions whispering terror. No crowd and hangman await, simply the mundane; legion and pointless – mocking your ego, your sense of purpose and destiny, your dreams and hopes.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m holding my breath and impatiently waiting until I can do what I want and these insidious delays are taunting me. I get angry and my will tenses and gathers like a cat ready to lash. Other times, I become depressed thinking that I’m weak and indecisive because I cannot break these cycles.
Who asks this…who knocks there…me or God, we or I?
I’m lost in the mirrors of this place dreaming of some beyond. Sometimes, the mirrors capture me and I’m in a bad dream and someone is wondering why. Whatever someone hopes for, someone has already given away. If I remember, I know i can expect nothing. And if I forget, it’s all taken from me.
One cannot come here lightly; only dying all the way.
gallagher
29Mar02
Monroe
— Copyright 1965-2016 by Dennis Gallagher —