The place between my shoulder freezes. Solidifies. No movement. A tension which gathers and hardens like cement. I wonder if it’s from the cold, but it doesn’t feel cold anymore. No feeling. I wonder if I’ve already frozen to death. 



when the wide world is lost in this great cavern of doubt
when we know not what we sigh for
nor where-from the sigh is issued …


by our dreams now dashed?
by our minds whose ambitions have been smashed
in jaded stones made from the remnants of
the idols of the passion of our love.

Father, tears fill up my hands I’m so tired and raw and weary

I guess it’s not so bad, but I just want to crawl up in your lap and kiss Your hands tonight

I want Your fingers stroking through my hair, I want to feel Your breath warming me

I want to know what Your T-shirt smells like, I want Your grace-scarred hands

Wrapped around my bruised ones

I want to know nothing but Your presence.