These feelings, these ideas, these urges drive me mad.  Someone murmurs to me one picture of life, and another murmur paints a radically different landscape.  Both have benefits, both have dire consequences, and inside, my mind fights for both.  My soul craves and desires, my spirit longs for life, and my mind is the battlefield.

From time to time these murmurs are blurred voices from the past, pulling on hooks which are buried in scar tissue and that when pulled bring about only a faint pain – a pain that is nondescript and dull, without a specific story, simply a feeling.

When I follow these whispers I always end up in a black void around me, unable to distinguish my mind, from my spirit, to my soul.  A void where everything, even the great things in life have faint significance and any light that shines has not a place to reflect, it falls flat.

Yet even though this void seems endless, full of pain, gnawing, and miserable endless muted open wounds – a light still pierces the darkness until it is absorbed into my spirit and filled once again.  Beginning as a faint and distant pearl of light, it spirals down, glimmering as sunlight on a diamond.

It is this mystery that is the gift, it is this gift that is increasingly more difficult to receive, over and over, and over again.  Yet it is this gift, this light, that brings a hope and purpose to this world and a life in the next.  For if I ever forget this gift, if I ever stop accepting it then I will have lost the love that is in the light and I will cease to truly live.