The breath of the wind guides me home.
In nature I am at solace, the sun beats down on my paper-thin skin.
Words do hurt.
Sticks and stones hurt too.
The feeling of love for another living being can be too much to bear.
There is no seperation, no differences in intensity of love between one thing or another,
The way I love my mother, is the same way I love the sweet smelling breeze on a cool spring morning.
My heart aches with boiling bursts of passion for all life.
A curse was put upon my fragile being from a young age.
An innervation of being an outsider, an on-looker, merely a feeble witness of an existence far out of my own control.
Going with the flow was too easy, too much of a withdraw from my own spiritual path.
A cop-out. To surrender was my life. To be used and abused was my way. The life I was leading was not mine. It was a bearer of others pain, a passage, a leverage for others to use to propel themselves into higher existence, whilst I bore the weight of it all.
I could play victim, I could blame, dismiss, be hurt, angry, resentful. But I am not.
The beauty of life happens to be in the realisations we come to, through pain, suffering, hurt and even joy, happiness, love.
The wrapping of the truth does not affect the experience.
Transitory states of change and growth, evolution into a being of mass love. I've always been overly sensitive. That will never change, the only thing that changes is my confidence in embodying that aspect of myself. No more running away to hide, I will bear all without fear that my heart will be broken.
Open chested, heart full to the brim, over-flowing love into the hungry eyes of those unable to find solace within their own minds.
A beacon, a way, into the light ♥