Salt

My soul created in utter simplicity,
yet the years experience leads to thoughtlessness,
transparency lost in life’s long struggle.

The light clouded by self inflicted wounds
and yes by the scourges of others,
seeking after permanence an illusion.

Torn in so many ways
rest a mirage nevertheless sought,
inner bleeding hid from outer sight,
hiding from others as well as self,
truth too much to bear.

Yet love is love after all,
seeing more deeply than inner sight,
if fear set aside allowing it rays access,
before now,
there waiting for the open wounded soul.

For grace is grace the gifts of gifts,
impossible I know it seems,
yet true nonetheless,
to let go and fall through to the darkness
into the arms of a loving creator.