Among the Dark Thoughts.

So much preservation and protection around these painful secrets. My heart is steeping in its own tears, so I build walls to keep away the floods. Everything seems to be focused on the task of tightening the stings of this fragile heart. I might break.

Hope is a dying breed, a seemingly impossible feat. Will there ever come a day when these sensations no longer take me by surprise? I pretend not to give it much thought, but every night as the dark covers this small room, there they are, penetrating and invasive.

These pieces seem beyond Resurrection. But You are always coming in the smallest of strange places. In the window's view, the professor's words, and yes, even among the dark thoughts.

Be Your Resurrection Self again, here. Do that Friday-Sunday act again and make all things new in You.

Yes, even these.