I touch my deepest of scars. How can I not? When they bear thus beauty I must reach forth. To know, I must hold within my hands great weakness if I were ever to possess strength. Pain is not wanted yet I, again and again, find it here. Constructions left long ago I shall return once more. To behold that which I held so dear. How is it I come to leave such a place as this, that was so close to my heart and now so seamingly far? Have I to become ever so ashamed of my own depths? To tremble at the feet of my own remarks. Archways of past I stood so firm in. Afraid of the time to look away. Now as a reflection in distant memory. How weary have I traveled? Stirn looks hold on my face as I marval at my disgrace. I feel now more out of place then ever before, only to at last live in place of my dwelling. I know that presense here I so long searched for. High and mighty is unlike me and yet here I am, all that I am, enticed by my own existance. One that shouldn’t be, is.
★ (2) June 17, 2012