Here I am.
Feeling I’m at the bottom again.
Can’t get any lower than this bed; where I lay.
Where all the crumbs and dust and debree sink to
Where all the neglect clumps up until I become one of them
And then I find where I belong.
The murky depths where creation calls for me.
Where my voice has been gurgling and drowning in all the things I’ve put between it and me.
And then I fall down only to fall closer to my VOICE.
Calling me home to rest in my bed where I will wake up anew and fresh from all the waters…
Where I escape from… but end up exactly where I run from…
(C) The Voice of the Wounded Soul