words are not enough

As the eyelid closes, I feel my eye burn.  Exhausted my body–each time feels like the first.

I should be sleeping, but curse my stupid desire to know all and answer my questions perfectly.  I run in circles trying over and over again to understand the feelings of my heart–yet I fail.  I think I know the answer, but later I find I’m only at the beginning of whatever it may be.

The silence around me feels overwhelming.

So many call it a gift, yet sometimes it feels like a burden.

I wonder what the desert fathers felt.  Did they plead for noise?  Did they desire intimacy?

Ever since I learned about them, I have kept coming back to the meaning of desert.  There are so many dimensions or pictures of what a desert may be.  Do they all, in the end, reflect the same thing?

I want to know.  Everything.  I want to understand.  Everything.  I know myself–yet, I don’t at the same time.

Restless my heart, as if ponders on unspoken truths.

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