Borrowed Hope

Another day. You don't know what you're doing or why you're even doing it. You can't believe in yourself and you sure can't believe in this thing called life that you spend your everyday "doing." What's the point anymore? It isn't working out. You sacrifice relentlessly for those things for which you are passionate. You actually choose to die to yourself for the sake of these very things. You are willing to bleed and bleed and bleed just because this thing, or these things, are worth it. Then it starts to feel like the world is closing in on you. Everywhere you look you see only darkness, like looking down through the tunnel of a well. You realize that it's getting a little harder to breathe. You're fingers are florescent white and you're feeling cold. You might be shivering but you can't tell for sure. No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to keep your eyes open. You keep trying though because it's worth it. This is what passion is about, right? Well, you aren't so sure now but you aren't willing to give up. Not yet. But you can't endure the pain of suffocation and your only desire is to find a place to sleep...for a long time. You're so tired. You're so cold. You're so exhausted...you're just lifeless: without a glimpse of hope left.We've all been there. We've shed much blood fighting like warriors the battles over those things for which we are so passionate...because we hope for something more: for us, for them, for me. And we have given ourselves over to this thing called hope. But it isn't hope. We haven't really succumbed to hope at all. We've lost ourselves to our own feelings of defeat. We feel like we've failed. It hasn't happened as planned. Even if we won, our victory was short lived. If we lost, we have nothing to show for our painful efforts. And the most frustrating part about all of this? This defeat? Is that there is still something within us that knows it, whatever it is, is worth fighting for. But we just can't pick up our sword. Not this time. You're out.This is where he comes in or she comes in. Maybe they come in. They've fought the battle right alongside you. They have suffered through the storms and blows. They hope for it too. You trust them. They love you. And you know they love it too otherwise they wouldn't have endured the slashing that has left them and you marked for life. He, or she, or they walk up to you, take your cold, lifeless body and drape it over theirs. You raise your chin in an unsuccessful attempt to help carry your weight. Your head is but a limp attachment to your neck...your feet, dragging behind. He or she or they explain to you, in the fierce absence of words, that they have you. Rest now. You try to fight them. It needs you. You haven't followed through. You wish you had strength left. You know that you should. You used to eat, breathe, and live for it. You know you did. And now you've...well, you surely have failed. Then he or she or they tell you no. It isn't true. You're not giving up. You're still on the journey...you're moving forward...they're just carrying the burden for awhile. They are choosing to suffer. For you, for it...for passion. Not because you can't or won't. But because they have hope. They have hope for you, for it. In your own hopelessness, will you choose to borrow theirs?

It's Missing

Life moves through my body
My breath in a perfect pause
Muscles are tense, fluid like rain
I move slowly, carefully, freely
I lose sense of noise, hear every beat
Note
Chime
I see not beyond this space
But feel your energy in my blood

Please don’t make me stop
I have not finished yet
You gave me the tree
Her sap
Her roots
My life is in her soil

The thing inside me
It’s fierce
It’s mad
Must I ignore or destroy or die?
It is all I know of desire
All I know of God
There, is the loveliness in me
Must I walk away?
I cannot
I see not beyond this space
But feel your energy in my blood