My scribbles · Perturbations

It’s the process

Running my fingers along the shelf, while doodling through the dust, I quiver slightly as asudden I am awakened from torpor.

It throbs somewhere in the middle as I feel it cracking. I take my faith pulverizing gradually. Puzzled for a while, I begin drowning.

The awful stink of rot and blood suffocates. I surrender to the pain enduringly sinking to my innermost nub, forsaking all the torn up exterior.

This place is alleviating and comforting. The soft core hardens while I find my nerve again. It flashes onto the dark. Relieved, pacific I apprehend.. it’s all justified.

My faith is here intact. Preparing me. Lightly holding my hands. Leading me to the path which only I have the rightful claim. The path which is only mine. Making me what I am meant to be.

The justice has been delivered. Not visible yet. My faith has found me.