In keeping with the posting entitled "Thoughts" from yesterday, I thought I would let you read a bit of my own personal journey that may touch a different part of our humanity than a well-reasoned accounting.
It is a presence behind me.
I turn around certain that I will see face in flesh.
Though invisible, it is more real than the trees at my back.
I breathe in tentatively, cautiously
Scared of discovery,
Frightened of who I might be
And worried that it will end in less than nothing.
It is present in every particle I breath,
Both choking and giving me life at once -
Death and life with each lungful.
I believe, at first, that I will hide
So I need not discover the depths of me -
The endless chasm filled with sanctity and sin.
But desire is pungent and hypnotic.
Like the pull of hot and aromatic food to the hungry,
It pulls me onward.
Would a stolen loaf of bread
Feed the hunger of the famished?
Or would the eater find herself
Doubled over in pain?
The world is my bread.
I nibble at it, wishing that I could eat it in one bite.
Not yet have I discovered if I have stolen it
Or if it has been laid out in secret for my sake.