I came burdened with vicissitudes, and my restless worries gnawed at you. You cried out for attention, but all you ever received was distraction and a measure of pity. You envied my friendships, and sorrow overwhelmed you. And you wept, with reason, round tears of heartbreak. You showed me devotion with so much love, but your manners undid you. And I needed neither pride nor rigid molds, but warmth, stability, and tenderness. And you gorged yourself on bitterness and madness,

I move forward slowly. I run toward you, Soul, Stumbling, With burning wounds. Life does not wait, Nor does it stop. It throbs and breathes, It surges and nourishes, It sings and dances, But it also flees and dies. And far away, so very far away, Its Canticle is heard, Its Prayer is whispered, And its weeping can be heard. By Emilia Montull Subscribe to: www.zoeinyourself.com

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