The Dirt in my Skin and the Dust in My Lungs.

Everything manages to overcome in waves, crashing and rushing like heavy waters.
I'm just coming up for air after the past week. Barely keeping my head above waterline.

There was so much blatant honesty that blanketed this weekend, and my head is still spinning from it. I feel a peace, it comes crashing, too. I feel like I'm standing in the eye of the storm, as cliche as it sounds-- it's the only imagery I can really give to help describe what's going on.

Everything comes to pieces around me, but there's quiet here.


I don't know why things happen the way they do, or for what reason.
I'm having to accept the fact that I'm probably more in want of control than I lead on.
But most of the time there is none. So like most humans, I breathe in deep and let time blow me away.

I keep reading about my existence with You. That You know we're only dirt and bones, fragments and broken pieces. I am just dust, like any thing that grows in nature-- a flower that withers or the way the leaves die each fall. How it says we only begin to live and then our lives are gone. The thought is like taking a cold shower-- something that sobers you and wakes you with a jolt, without a chance to catch your breath.

I guess all this understanding helps me breathe in the bigger picture, which most people forget to look at. They're too busy staring down the details with their magnifying glasses to see the real beauty of all the details put together. When we forget to look at everything, with consideration to all the parts and pieces, we lose our peace. You take hold of the pieces, the whole picture. You are the peace. Though I can never fully grasp You, I will take hold of You. I give You all my pieces, let You give me life. Not that You ever needed my permission.