I'm sitting here on an early Tuesday morning hours before I'm off to work; I've been sharing words with a gentleman from my past, and listening to songs that I love & some that I've never heard. You're welcome to join me in this rut of sorts. "Where have I been?", I ask, "Where is this place?" Let's let everything crash down around me, and when the Earth below me stops shaking, then I'll gather what's left worth salvaging. It could be said that I'm giving up on some things; It could be said that I'm just redirecting my focus. It all seems to be according to the season that I'm in.
"Your love never fail, and never gives up; It never runs out on me."
I'm thankful for such words that were giving to me from my dearest of friends. They are words about a god: a god that we have both clung to. She's a different kind of woman. We've been through many Summers without each other, but I long to see the world from the eyes of those Summers so long ago.
"Can I come home for the Summer?"
An eternal Summer in each others company: A life of magic, searching for Christ, and love. What is it to return to that place? What is it to rediscover that long lost masculinity, so that it could embrace her femininity? I can only wait and see.
I've closed my boarders, and have retreated from those territories that I have only found to be lands of wasted efforts.