Filling the Hole

Hearing words of truth uttered with such conviction, such passion, such certainty and integrity; it's making me wonder why it's getting so hard to speak. Avoiding unposessed areas of virtue, inwardly do I look upon the void. Wholely certain that this massive crater deep within only has room to grow, I prepare the self-sacrifice of more. Giving up everything, I submit to emptiness. Isolation makes nothing of men, and takes men to a state of nothingness.

My vision is limited to the pictures in my memory. Past bleeds into the present and still memories overwhelm my sights. In a crowd of solitary confinement, this hole grows ever larger. I land upon firm ground, surrounded by the encroaching waves of the faceless crowd, blind to the presence of humanity.

With an ear to hear in this muted existence do I find myself ever searching for a voice; some sound to take away the dark days. To speak is to be heard, and a lifetime of inner dialogue will not fill this hole. With an arm of exhaustion do I find myself reaching for strength to share the depth of this depression, to relate the means of my destruction. Hope is the light with which I can illuminate this void.

Speaking aloud my forgiveness plea, I pray with you that He'll come fill me.