Hiraeth

I am lost.

 

Like the sailors out in the deep blue sea in search of a siren’s non-existent song, in search of love and compassion wherein the world would stop turning as they travel far, farther, further away from the hands of reality. I find beauty in depth and the shyness I give off whenever I’m around people. And they see me ignoring them, yet I am careful and I am kind in approaching and I remain lost.

Love letters. I write love letters. To my love; my partner in serving my Father and in strengthening my faith, to my company, to me. I have cast my dishonesty away to the outside world wherein I continue to conceal and hide in my shyness and depth, while I write and write and keep writing to my heart’s content, emotions swirling around like the Kraken inside my soul, begging to get out, destroying the reality we see, believing in what can be heard and found from upstairs as He talks to us. Yes, He talks to us.

And I am difficult and incomprehensible. I can be unpredictable, and it’s maddening; it’s annoying. You will hate me for that, but yet you keep laughing. You keep loving and caring and nurturing, and I thank you. I am weak and I drown in my passiveness and chronic fear of the past; of the cycles that tear me apart over and over as I desperately claw at my walls, painting the white room red as I cry and I wail and I silently scream. I love to help. I help everyone, hammering down their walls, counting stars, pointing at the sky and staring hopefully. But I am frail and weak, and I need help, so help me, as well. I apologize sincerely.

I am in dire need of attention and appreciation as I never cease to do my best in my struggles, stubbornly refusing to give up no matter what the world throws at me as the sirens’ songs continue to burst like a flare of colors in my limitless mind; my stirring emotions. So give me applause, but not praise, as it belongs to my Father up above and understand that He is my everything. But if you prove yourself God-sent and loved, then you are the ‘everything’ He gave to me and I’ll accept you with all my heart as we sing our way to the Holy City.

Nobody said it was ever easy, and I promise you I won’t be easy. You will cry and leave and break yourself to pieces, adjusting to the size of my small circle of homesickness. But you still make your way into it, like I did to the room you once threw yourself into as you hid from yourself, and I thank you. You are my love; my blood; my family. And I pray that I love you for the rest of my days.

I was lost.

But now you’re here.