I feel tired and alone in a clearing that remains from a battle worn emotional landscape. I struggle to keep camp and raise a flag of hope against the storm. From instinct you withdraw; fortifying from behind your wall.
I’ve tried. With an army of desire and years of youthful pursuit I’ve tried to scale it, breech it, explore its boundaries. I’ve chiseled at its mortar stone by stone. Until I discovered that patience is my only tool. The resonance of true love my only sustenance.
I am still here. I am still hopeful. One day I may not be; by my choice or not. But please remember that wherever my spirit is I will still be in that clearing. Just beyond you. Even when alone, cold or barely in sight, trust I’m there. Patiently waiting for time to wear it down or for you to decide.
