You, who for thousands of years have stood under my story’s nameless feeling,

You, who have been there when I was born, pouring life into a shell walking the empty streets of ancient times, molding me with your Adam and Eve fingers and taking away the unknown.

You, whose trails of words have taken me from darkness into the only light worth living for,

Purpose.

You, who stood under the tree churches of my childhood becoming the Gods the world has never acknowledged.

You, whose lovegiving has made joy flow within peace and my tormented soul has felt in a moment of your arms around me what others minds can’t imagine in a lifetime.

You, whose eternity clung to your words as they landed on your palms into which I found my life’s knowledge cradle,

And the seed of real life grew roots around your wrists into my own meaning.

You, who sang my fears away even from afar and healed a world of slowly connecting dots.

You, whose kindness stretched the arches of skies deeper than all the vertigos of the warm storms,

And I rose above air and gravity and flew into the infinite calling eye of the rose galaxy,

You, who still fill up the dawning sky with your all-encompassing touch from the faraway lands in which you have gone forever,

And the grass bows into the morning rays for his night and her heaven while I open my eyes and caress your shadows from where I stand.

You, who have been the benchmarks of my happiest solitudes in the deepest of blue waves, on the winds of the hills, on the white walls of the tallest pillars of free minds,

You, whose last summer and winter gave birth to the fifth season of my spirit,

Hope.

So that I can find myself, in the chapter that I never thought I would write one day,

On my own road leading into my true shape, between her hope and his purpose,

So that I can become what both of them have always prayed for,

So that I can become

Me.

 

M.

 

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