The doubt in my mind causes me grief. Simple thoughts circulate around the very image of perfection and stir the degrading circumstances into a spiraling typhoon around my heart. Love is present, I believe... but my mind won’t let it manifest properly; and everything that comes to the forefront of my thoughts are negligent and retarding, in the literal sense of the word. I want to give myself away as I have twice before. I want to jump into this newness as a fresh piece of paper whose borders have not been breached by the ink of a staining pen as it attempts to write out the passage of this possibility.
That’s part of it too: this relationship I’m in is simply a possibility at this point. Prior discussions have made it unconventionally clear that we are dating, no more, no less, with the distinct intention of working towards getting to know one another before declaring any suitable title for the associations between the two of us. Pure appreciation for the maturity of this decision has descended upon my heart because I’m still unaware of the landscape of the love I can disseminate. To give away what is not lush and verdant would be utterly despicable, especially if that was the cause of unfortunate outcomes. I don’t want to mess this up because he is truly an amazing guy.
Everything I’ve wanted up to this point: comfortable, confident, true, experienced, hidden, mature, relaxed, trusting, and open. He cares not if I’m out and about, living the life on the town. He enjoys that I embrace new experiences with him, and without him. He doesn’t pry into my life, as I have left his relatively untouched ‘til recently. Pressure between us for physical encounters is far from present and that creates the most pleasant environment to get to know each other. His smile makes me feel welcome, invited. His eyes don’t push into my soul and wait for me to step forth. HIs touch is soft, gentle, yet firm in what he wants. With all these attributes, the one thing that soothes my being above all else is his energy: calm, relaxed, firm, and knowing.
Knowing... He knows much about living, and that is something I enjoy profusely. I have always wanted to live; and a few aspects of me endured the weather I found myself in in order to live, but I wasn’t living. January finally found my footing in the land of life, where sunshine enveloped my essence and freedom told its story through my actions. Unfortunately, transitions from captivity to the outer doors has its turbulence and I got caught up in the luckless waves for a few months, but I learned a lot about what it takes to keep my footing.
And I found this man: a man to be approved of, a man to share with everyone, a man to take hold of and hope will never leave in any circumstance... And the doubt enters in. My fear resides in my own worthiness. I am damaged from a sundering unto myself from myself for myself, further broken my by intrinsic willingness to love another before the mending occurs, and I’m perhaps unknowingly reserved from uncontrolled trepidation to love another because of all of my previous experiences with love. Many people around me say I’m good enough, say I’m worthy, tell me I’m worth the love I hold in my heart (which truly is unconditional and full and bright as the stars, beautiful as the Verse). I want to feel it, though... I need to know it’s coming before I give, I suppose...
Then I’ll know if I am ready. To know I’ll be safe in another’s heart when I give mine away, to understand the other won’t mindlessly, needlessly harm me when I’m already torn, to feel the breath between two lungs from another’s lips... that will give me the peace of mind, soul, heart to be able to give what I fear giving. Truthfully... I’ll only know if that’s enough when it happens; and with this man I believe the road will be smooth enough for me to take the necessary time to find the right moments to open the forest of my heart to him.
It is sodden. The ground is moist with the rain of the past. Growth is slow and timid, searching for the ray of sunlight piercing the grey clouds. Under the cracks from a quake ages ago the roots spread slowly, feeling out the nutrients of spirits whispering of purity hidden in the soil underfoot. Darkness remains despite the effort of the forest’s god calling upon the serenity of his compatriots. The walls are closed to the slow walk, trapping in and keeping out all the efforts of endearment between. Three words hold the key to the gates. Three words endeavor to break down the clouds. Three words will bring the forest back alive and seal the ground with tidal forces swaying like a gentle breeze amongst the leaves. The Keeper awaits those words, tending the way in patient circumstance.
So must I.
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