Laying demons to rest

Lately I have been losing myself in deep thoughts trying to find a balance between this turbulence of being thrown off my steady path. I have questions that I have to seek answers for deep inside me. Even though I am not sure that these answers will come from within I feel this push to keep searching. As I am attempting to pick up where I left off in pursuing my bliss, my inner happiness, my ultimate destination and beginning of my journey of life, I question the emptiness I feel whenever I think of him which is all the time. I wish I could find a way to get past it but it seems impossible.

Initially my thoughts were filled with anger and hurt but now I feel only a certain fondness that has me smiling every time I see him. I have pictures in my mind of my thoughts about him. Sometimes I am sitting across from him looking into his eyes. We say nothing. There is no music no background sound of any kind. Just silence. We converse but only through silence. I smile. Sometimes he is lying down and my head is resting on his chest. I feel his heart beat almost erratically against my ear and we are both looking out to an unseen horizon. Silent. Nothing is said; nothing can be heard except our heartbeats. I let my hand rest directly above his heart. I feel him breathe. I smile. Sometimes I am making love with him. There is no barrier, nothing holding me back. Before, I used to hold back the most important part of me: my core, my very being, the yolk of me. I was so afraid, I realize that now. I never gave him everything for I was so afraid of letting go of everything and so I held back some of me. I now think I had an unconscious fear of losing myself and being left with nothing; nothing of myself.

I have questions that need to be asked so I can lay their demonic spirits that haunt me to rest. I have hindrances that need to be taken care of; removed if you may so I can be revived. I am in a near-death trance; an emotional near-death trance and I need to breathe again. I need to be jolted and it is frustrating and hard to feel that dull thump of realization that he might be the only one to bring me back to life. Why, then, can’t I do that? Am I not supposed to be my own Michael Angelo? Am I not supposed to sculpt myself; me, David? Why then do I feel only half able?

I sometimes lie down and clasp the back of my head in my entwined fingers and gaze up at the ceiling and I wonder what he is doing right that moment. I wonder if he feels me in his heart; roaming his chambers searching for somewhere to settle my weary self. I look around for his anger if it is still harbored there. I look for his love if it will reveal that it holds me in its strong grasp. I search for even one place in his heart where I am welcomed. I feel lost sometimes, and cold. I feel distant warmth emanating from somewhere in the deep tunnels of this heart I love so much and I can’t give up searching. I wonder what it would be like to see him again, sit down from across him and talk to him. I wonder how it would feel to look into his eyes again. Different, I know. I have changed, somehow. I don’t know about him, I would love to know but I can only sense. I feel that he has clammed up and has shut me out but I still feel there is a little allowance for me to get through again. I only hope I am not too late. I know that I have changed. I have brought out that last piece of me, that innermost person for him to see. I really want him to see her. I hid her from him because I feared he would only wound her irreparably and I would be left with a vacuum but now after the storm has passed I see clearly. I only want him to have her and nobody else.

I know when the angry grey clouds were gathered I could see nothing; see no reason. I only could see through the lightning that was the reaction of the friction between pain and wounded pride. I could only glare at the ugly shadows cast by the angry currents from my negativity. I failed to see the beauty of his soul that I feasted on so many times. “The sun sees not light until heaven clears”. I see that beauty again now that the storm has cleared. But in the wake of a storm a lot of damage can be done. The question that remains is that is reconstruction possible? Will the restoration ensure former glory of the affected areas? Will I get back what I may have trampled in my fit of fury? The delicate, little buttercups, daisies and blue bells… will they have survived my wrath?

I am only left to depend on listening to what my soul wants and setting myself in place to receive what the soul wants. Otherwise I cannot do anything else. I will not deny myself my wants. I know what I want and nobody is going to tell me otherwise not even the critic in me.