Desolate Lands

I wish I knew where to begin. Some place other than this resort of pain…a recycling, re-ripping off of a scab type pain on the delicate tenderness of the heart and mind.

It’s the early a.m. of another day. Broken appears to be the theme, even more so these past few weeks. Can another day hurt? Yes.

Insomnia stands alert on my emotional and physical exhaustion. Spiritual trickles are slowly refilling my core. A near empty cup can’t run over even when on its side.

Hasn’t the wilderness been enough? Good intentions. Good actions. Good behavior. Is good enough?  Good place to plant seeds of prosperity upon a well-trotted soul…that is whenever the storms decide to take a vacation.

A teary-eyed reflection of a broken soldier peer back. How did my internal take the hit and open up to a soul smack?

This isn’t me. My path is foggy as I seek an understanding…a shelter of security…a love reciprocated unconditionally overflowing…

Oh, that’s hope speaking in the recesses of my mind while ringing the bell of my heart.

Sometimes just writing and praying is a beginning place to start…


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