You say I am beautiful. You say you like me. You talk of my strength and how you believe I can help you. Yet in all this time you have not shared with me what it is you need help with. How am I to assist you when I know not what you seek? How do I know I want to provide aide? Perhaps it is an illusion, anyway.
So much darkness lives in so many hearts, it is difficult to maintain belief in love. In the core of me faith still dwells, I hold onto fragments left from childhood. Growing older, these fragments become more frayed. I grasp at straws now, they are brittle, they break, they turn to dust in my hands.
Life will be a lonely existence without opportunity to share. It seems the need to horde what little we gather is being taught and fostered in mind. There must be more, something bigger than currently imagined. Is it not seen due to of lack of preparedness? What must occur so that possibilities of peace and love stabilize?
Surely there is a reason for it all.