High Into the Blue.
Even though I break and shatter,
Even though I cry alone;
Even then I know you are with me,
Even then I know I am home.
How do I heal from this? Is it possible when I am so very lost?
My acid tears cannot quench the raging torrent of a red hot pain coursing through me.
This is a good sign.
At least it means I can feel something. It is easier to feel anger than deal with the naked truth of a grief that is as stark and as harsh as a wild, black sea.
Tossed about as I am, yet I’ve never felt more grounded that I ever have right now. I cannot understand it. The truth is I want to be angry but I can’t. So I have no choice but to face the grief in all its stripped down glory.
It is sublime. A thing of perverse beauty.
As I hold your hand darling girl in the dead of night, there is an unbreakable love surrounding us.
The darkest hour is before dawn.
Dawn arrives bringing with it sweet relief.
For there is always hope. There is always faith. But the greatest of these is
Quiet. Still. Colour.
Seranade me if you will;
Reach out and touch me in the cold beauty of this hour.
Heal me with your cool breeze, with your handmade colours and your music from heaven;
Stir me with your symphony and bring me back to life.
Fall upon me Summer Rain and speak to me with your promises of deliverence;
Softly whisper them to me so many times that I shall never forget them.
Then take my burden and lift me high into the blue.
Then I know that it is well
It is well with my soul.
The Kiss of the Sun for Pardon, The Song of the Birds for Mirth, One is Closer to God’s heart in the Garden Than Anywhere Else On Earth. (Anon)