Journal-y type thoughts, scribbled one lazy afternoon...

[sryope26]

He sleeps the slumber of a boy. Tired, utterly worn out. Worn down, exhausted, searching, restorative, sad & true. Rejuvanating,but only for a short while. When he wakes, it will be the same, always the same.The cycle wears him down, grinding on skin and eyes and soul, chafing & rough. His eyelids flicker, impossibly long, delicate lashes resting on pale cheeks, sunken from lack of nourishment and real rest, alabaster carved into life. It is only these eyes which show the true length of his years, bold & bright & inquisitive, filled with dark, deep secrets. His "goodness" is apparent, velied by only the thinest maya of armor, rusted and scratched by years of tears and tearing nails. The tough facade seems as delicate as spiders silk, yet as real and hard as cold iron. Sometimes it takes so little to pierce the armor - a careless finger or a thin, white hot needle, heated with pain and hope & fear & love. Love. Love is all there is. In this bleak, bright, sobbinlgy beautiful world, with its stunning atrocities, we have love. We have the ability to be open and to connect with another soul, a soul we search for and yearn for and know - know with the sureness of a childhood blanket. It is a love our soul recognizes before our lips and our eyes and our fingers can taste it or see it or feel it. The oldness of a person whose being has hovered around us since before we knew the words for love, hate, fear, or opresssion. As old as the instinct for love and light, yet often as alien to us as flight or silence. Busy, busy, the world rushes on, not caring for us, whspering that we must care for ourselves if we are to survive, whispering that we must care for others if we are to ever truly live.
Prayer, love, hate, sleep. Tears coupled with laughter, silence with screaming. We can not replace missing stones in the roads we walk and the bridges we cross, again and again. But, we can mend what is broken. We can sew, glue, repair. I can write and dance, and laugh, and smile. For you, for them, for him, but mostly, for myself.
Love does not replace hate, it simply snuggles up with indifference, takes its fair share of the covers,and tries to warm its toes. Your heart can break many, many times, and still learn to live again. Learn to love again.

Thank you for showing me.