Where to run

It's like everyone is watching, with bated breath, for me ot fall apart. I can feel it. I've watched friends etched into fallen foes, before my naive eyes. They give only to retrieve. I seek the solace of my own solitude. I'm coming home. Where no one else knows. I wish I could find those who feel safe to me. A love without contingency. A grace that lands upon me like a feather from a graceful spring. It can't be that in death, I can finally let go. Isn't there a safe haven in this life? I look and find mere voids, trapped within their own confines. I find my trembling hand, grasping at an aching throat. Will there ever be a peace that doesn't look over its shoulder? A war that ceases-la relève. Is there a love that isn't cautious? Without warning, it seeps in the way my own light has. I found me. After the carnage, when the veil lifted, I finally saw. Do you think I'm willing to relinquish something so precious without scourn? A betrayal changes you. A dismissal rewrites you. But truth in solitude borders on mythical. You become. You truly are. The light, the force, all that ever was and will be you. Yet, a yearning. A dull ache rushes forward and seeks. It doesn't desire safe. It desires experience. As though it has a boundless source to pull from. A limitless, formidable force it is born of. "I don't seek safety. I seek to live. Without this urge, I shall die of decay and unresolved disillusionment..." I'm resigned to believe that succumbing to the fall is the only way to true sentience. Falling into the unknown without expectation. Falling away from certainties to know what lies behind them. What awaits me is what I've been seeking. It seems as though it has been just as eager to meet me. A dull ache turns into full realization. There you are. A riddle within an abyss. A fathoming beyond the mind of man. A dizzying multitude that induces the fear of God itself. What awaits has been looking within you all along. It has been awaiting your welcome. Late to your own party. It's like everyone is watching, yet the breath is my own.