It's not my turn

I can feel it. So far away. It's not my turn.  I look to the Sun on the brightest and the coldest and the wettest and the cloudiest. If I want to I can feel warmth in a place that's far below my skin. A comfort that embraces me. 

More then what is human. Because this comes with honesty. It's all that I can do to not fantasise about finding this in a companion. Someone I can hold and lay my head on. Although honesty far from humanity. Humanity being the only thing I can conceptualise. 

It's an escape for me. It is my heaven, my drug of choice. An honest willingness to bring joy to someone other than myself. But more, a willingness in honesty for someone to bring it to me. 

How long have I walked the streets?Watching shuffling feet go one way only to turn back and go the other? Watching and listening to the lies that fly back-and-forth so fast that the speakers don't even recognise the lies they tell. 

I can still feel it though. So far away. Weakend without, Despaired without, Lost without, Left without, but not forgotten about. When I want I can still look up and feel it. Because with it you never forget. From it you never get over. My soul consumes my very flesh trying to generate it on its own. My stomach aches from the emptiness of it not truly filling. 

The thing that so many fill themselves with. An artificial replacement, a  fakeness, an apparition, a dishonesty. So far away. It's not my turn. There are no guarantees in life. But there are in death. Yet, so far away. 

They have taken all the songs and stories of my faith and turned them into commercials and movies. That no one and I mean no one truly ever believes in anymore. Even those that proclaim only do so like a party hat. A virtue signalling of the worst kind. An outer deception. 

Honesty is the answer and the anchor. So many have given up theirs. I always turn to see the truth at my door. But every time an illusion. But I hope for something that thinks more of me than of itself. A companion who I can hold and tell how much I've missed. And we will take turns filling and feeling the warmth that's just below the skin. And I wonder in my delusion is such a thing even possible? I prayed for an answer. I got one. 

On the sunniest, the coldest, the cloudiest, I can still feel the warmth that is far below my skin. So so far away. It's not my turn. I am not forgotten. There's only so much to go around. It's not my turn.

~~~~~~~ 

So turn from the Sun now on these dark days. Meditate on patience and fast on knowledge. Sing in chorus of one that which is now commercial. Give thanks to those that touch your heart. Gift those who stand long enough to hear it. Sit in quiet counsel until.... 

Aint love Grand!!!!