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.