No Longer Given

At dawn facing east, facing daylight, facing now.

Before thought could enter, a blue jay flew straight into the glass slider. He fell hard to the ground and my gut filled with nausea. I couldn't look to see where he landed or if he was mortally wounded. I could only curse the windows, wishing I didn't have the ability to look upon the world from this spot, with these windows, with this light.

Bowing, begging forgiveness, accepting what is given and not.

One wonders if she can live as though poor, denouncing gratifications and appetites for the good of releasing the soul. It is easy to give away comforts and things. It is harder to abolish the desire for love that burns hotter than the sun.

What is enkindled with the lack of desire? The promise is that I am not forsaken. The promise is that I am not alone. And it strikes me that promises are a way to order what is not yet here. Promises are worded hopes that move through fingers and time, a lot like the wind.

I gotta be honest, it seems like a waste to have the temple cherished only by the One who made it. Can I deny my heart when it has been asked of me? That is the abyss I do not know how to fall into. That is the one death I fear.