Quietly I'll Slip Away

I’ll sit in the silence and crave what it holds
A vast, indiscernible mystery
I watch the twilight lengthen in darkness,
The softness of the sky meld into the deep blues only seen for a moment
And for once I wish the twilight would stay
And I wouldn’t feel the large darkness that the many points of distant starlight seek to illuminate
In this quiet house I’m the only one breathing
The only one who craves the ticking and echoing of a clock in the stillness
It’s only in such a deep silence that I can truly feel myself think
That I can run words and jumbled thoughts into pictures and landscapes, strung like a ribbon across a heart in love with thickened silence
But such is only to be grasped and never held
How can the mass of human population be content to rush about and worry so
Is their conscience too weighted for them to listen to the silence, listen to their own heart – listen for God’s voice
And so they look in the reflection of a dimly illumined glass and despise what they see and shrink from what can only take a still and quiet heart to hear
I look in that glass
And I see a girl
A girl with long curls draped like a robe over her shoulders
Fathomless eyes of the depths of the richest tree, longing to hear the silence, see the crocus, feel the Winter’s breath
I see a face, although blotched with imperfection, clear, different, still
But the part that I cannot see is the part closest to me
It’s the part I long to understand, long for it to see and hear all it can
It beats with palpitations, but so imperceptibly that I cannot feel like this body owns a living pulse
It’s no use to ask me what I feel
I only long
I know not for what
Or when or where or how
I only see the window
And as I see myself in the reflection, so I am
I may be tangible to your eyes, your arms, your heart,
But to myself I’m just a reflection
Not even in a looking glass
I see right through my hair, my lips, my eyes, my hands
To the ground beneath the window
The shafts of grass that quiver in the midnight air
The leaves strewn carelessly by the wind upon the ground
The silhouette of the dead trees, after they’ve been stripped of all their autumn leaves
Faintly I see myself
And quietly I’ll slip away.

Fear

The pain in my eyes is hidden by a sheen of brightness. The only thing I can honestly say is that my soul is tossed upon waves like confusion. I don't know what I feel. I don't know what I know. I feel neither love, nor hate; thankfulness, or remorse. I feel so empty and broken. Sucked of all life and as if I am nothing but an empty cold corpse that walks around with the living. So broken; I want to feel love, but I cannot. My heart doesn't even quicken. How can I be so unfair to those who say they love me? How can I let them love me, and how can I say I love them when it's but a hollow, shallow emptiness choking me. I shrink like a cowering animal from causing people disappointment. Would I give into that to the point that I deny myself peace and happiness for the rest if my days? Let pride and fear rule me instead of being as bold as a lion for God? You see my struggle. I don't know what is a lie I've told myself and what is the truth; yes: my heart condemns me.
It's not him; it's never been him. He is good and godly, but is this what He has for me? At times I can uncurl my fingers and reach out a little, but my whole being shrinks in a frightened  revulsion when the thought strikes my mind. How do I get myself into messes like these? It's the battle between pleasing someone and being honest. It's easy to go along until you are alone and the immensity of the weight crushes you, but it's so hard to say the few words that could free my conscience and soul but crush another's heart. So hard. I guess the question is this: will I have courage, or will I cower? Or am I just deceiving myself again?
I stand and run in circles all day long and I fall over because I'm dizzy; I sleep and finally my senses return but I rise to only run in a circle again. I tried to walk a square, but the corners just fade away again.
"Perfect love casts out fear." No wonder I have no love; I am controlled by an uncontrollable fear.
If it never really lasted, was it ever really there?
How can I love you, when I loathe myself?
I'm in love with nature; I'm jealous to be alone with her. Bask in the moonlight; be held by the brisk air and soft light. Hear the orchestra of crickets echoing through the darkness; watch the moon rise, from dull gold to light too bright to behold, as it gains ground in the sky. Running hard to sit for a moment above where I sit and rest my head.
You know, I never thought I actually would seriously have someone. Someone who loves to tell me they love me. But how is it fair to that person if I can't seem to love them back? If my soul is wrapped around my feet and embittered, scarred, and pained by the past? And I realized that I got used to the feeling - the knowing of being alone. And I loved - I love it. Is that my problem? Do I not want to give up that life of solitude I had planned for myself? I shiver; I shake; I tremble. I don't know what I want. Or am I just too scared to be honest?

It's Me

Riddled with scars, here I sit in the silence.
It's not him, it's me. It's always been me. Either because I'm not content, or I'm selfish and I want my way, or I feel guilty, or I feel degraded. But these are all lies I've been fed like a complacent child. I say I want God but what do I do? Read a psalm in the morning and bless my food at meals. Is that a Christian? Or is that a title, a mere hypocrite like the ones Jesus scorned as whitewashed tombs and pits of vipers? I say I don't want to be that, but am I? Really? Who do I really want to be? What could be my potential if I just stop believing the lies? And look to His face?