The fear of being alone ever-present, hides those from the option of truly being known.
A choice remains as you might’ve predicted:
Only its victim decides how long it can stay.
How permanent the effects are, even while it remains on display,
The problem of pain we can’t seem to evade, forgetting the whole time that we have a say.
That’s the thing about pain: as demanding as it is, as much brokenness as it conveys,
pain in its true form
is also at the mercy of the heart,
our choice to delay or hasten its inevitable reform.
Pain quickens the pace of the current; our freestyle seems useless against its waves.
Use the ocean, or let it use you.
But please don’t let it sweep you away,
Because no matter how high the tide, how heavy the rain or fierce the wind;
the adventure isn’t the water and all that it brings; it is everything that lingers inside you.
Hoping, praying you will cut fear’s invisible strings.
I still struggle a lot with writing. A lot of it is fear, that has no place driving my language or how I choose to bring it about, but that's okay. I feel off of my intended wagon and I'm trying to get back now. Because my silence will not protect me, and never has.