My heart is closed.
Two seraphim’s with flaming swords guard the entrance.
For years, I acted out of memorized scripts in my head.
Spoken out of logic, out of reason.
Until the night my consecration died.
The night the symmetrical aberration was born.
Me, but more like an alternate universe version of me.
Angels wept, darkness rejoiced.
While the pieces of my heart were cast into the wind.
However, my ancestors were good at picking up things.
Like cotton…like pieces of a broken heart.
Thereafter, I decided I would never be hurt again.
Sure enough, never say never.
I was hurt and I hurt others.
Hurt people hurt people.
I did not steer my relation’s ship very well.
It ran aground in shallow waters.
I tried, I tried for 2 years.
Seems like thirty…seems like…thirty.
All everyone has met is this facade of self.
The sorrel colored, insecure “quiet” me.
Created out of an instinct for survival.
Created out of hurt, out of pain…rage.
This doppelgänger running rampant through my story.
This pernicious Pinocchio who could never be authentic.
Tainting my once good name.
This effigy is all most people have known.
Honestly, all I’ve allowed people to see.
Until…with an intensity which shook the very foundations of my story.
My sleeping self was aroused from his slumber
Like the all father from the Odinsleep.
A war is being fought on familiar soil, the carnal copy is wrestling for control.
My heart is starting to beat again.
My heart is starting to feel again.
My heart is starting to love again.
Love is the problem.
Love is the answer.
Such a beautiful paradox.
[Poem #18. Image by me and the sysop via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]