So this is how we are rendered. One step at a time, beginning small, ever so slightly, cautious in our understanding, yet boistrous in our calling. Stepping onto ground that was never there.

I feel at times to look out on a small landscape, as far as my eye may turn, losing nothing in the spinning of myself. I feel like though the summits are close, just within reach, the scope is large beyond reason, my whys and whynots carrying me to that place beyond the end of the tips of my fingers. And within that gaze, I see so much, so small, the tiniest of spots, expansive to my emotions, and infinite in impact so clearly disembled before me.

Blue veracity, my childish understanding of my flesh and my blood. Skattered disention from unanswered sobs contract in my hips and and release in my chest, losing in my glimpses and moments one word said and one word forgotten holding a key to my skin, my core.

Those moments on my horizon, from there until here, are lost to me. How did I make it here? I point at one and then point at another before I realize they have pointed at me and grasping my hands pull me in two. From there to here, now til gone, life unto death.

I feel that I am looking back on shades of myself, small vignettes of poses and parts, tumbling down before my eyes, gathering in my hands like fallen leaves. Lay me down...

Now, becoming and living, lost to no one, yet gone from there, leaving my blood behind, hollow and lost, just wondering wandering, and gathering bits of life to fill myself back up. How long may I be a vessel, and how much may I let that guide that part of me.

Now must I seek my serenity, loose the profanity of my bones, and my forever counting scars, the obscenity of my body. I must let it fall from me like rain, sheding light and dark, the blood and semen smeared from my skin. Let me pass through that portal, let me always look forward. Beyond this and the gazes of my eyes, may I find the source of light that has guided my wayward step, has led me through silence and sound, the black and my self. I feel it, I hear it so faintly, may I touch it...


Lord make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
And where there is sadness, joy.

O divine master grant that I may
not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love
For it is in giving that we receive-
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.