You berated me for being a coward. You shamed me for showing you who I really was.
You told me you were ashamed of me because I was running…
Amor, the truth is, I was running back to you.
How do you stop the disease when the medicine makes it worse?
Your love was what started this, and what reduced me to this scared mess that you now despise.
Tell me, should I stop? Should I cave and accept my failure?
Or should I keep running?
–back to you–
Life -in many a sense- is a series of patterns that one fails to consciously recognise, which is the reason that some forms of suffering operate full-circle. Which is why some people require external aid to help see these patterns, and break free from those that are toxic; those that trouble the soul, and the vessel.
This process of recognition may vary, between a few short hours, or a distant forever, and even then, it is not guaranteed. However, our humanity lies in our weaknesses; our constant need for perfection, and our inevitable fall from grace. Our lack of understanding of our own conscious minds, serves to be the biggest foe, that some may never fight.
It isn’t that I enjoy this, my dear.
On the contrary, I run this track,
for this track was what you taught me to run,
with your love, at the end of it–
who was I to say no?
I wanted to be loved,
and you told me this was the way.
You led, I followed.
What difference, pray tell,
exists between an old God, and his blind follower,
and you, and I.
Did I not believe you unconditionally?
Did I not swear myself to your love?
Did you not smite me for the wrongs you perceived I’d done?
Did I not surrender at the temple of your pride?
Did I not run–
back to you?