Under the starless L.A. sky
What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing. Waht have I
signed up for? What have I allowed to become of
myself? Sure on the suface its love, its being in love its
feeling on some deep level complete, whole in a way.
But then thats the surface even though thoes things
truley run deep. So what else is there, underneith that
love, underneith all thoes feelings and completedness.
First there is God, everpresent and ever forgiving, then
there is patience, but what else? ANger? Rage? Loss
of self to the choice of another? Sure I could call aon
any of theis things and say 'there, therer is the reason,
the driving force.' but that would be a lie. I singed up for
somthing so spectacular it fills me full of awe. I've let
my life become a thing of not setteling and moving the a
rythem of theoes distant drums. What do they say?
They say you are WORTH, Brandon James BErnard.
Hazard aside, caution to the wind, the this come to
fruitation. Let the weat be harvested, you soed it, reap it.
There could be marviolus fruit, or decaed life but if you
abandon the field before the sythe comes to the stalk,
you will never know. So I'm signing up for waht I helped
create, months ago and I wait for the harvest with some
fear in my heart, but that fear is over ridden with the idea
that everything will be alright. Come what may, all
things will be righted, with pass and be forgiven. I want
to pass this on to her, the knowing, the 'understanding' I
have. But this is my road, not hers, and her knowing
can only truly coem from her. Go , I love her, I will walk
forever with her heart embossed into my soul, he eye in
my mind. If harvest is that, than I call to it willingly. IF it is
my not so secreat hope, that too I call out for.