Dear Angels,

I don’t think I was meant for this earth. My heart is too big and aches too much.

I try to pull myself out of sadness but my efforts are to no avail.

I let go.

I let God.

I try and try.

I sit in emptiness and silence.

I sit in prayer.

I hope and wish and dream.

I try once more.

While I am not tough, I recognize I am brave.

I stand acutely aware of the dangers of life and the inevitability of dying. Change terrifies me, yet my very existence is encompassed by constant change. Still I walk on.

I am bombarded by my mind’s connections, the branching out of complex thoughts in order to make some sense of concepts and happenings. My thoughts, a web, upon a web, upon a web, spinning out exponentially and infinitely with no end, exhaust me. Still I walk on.

The only way to stop the thoughts is to distract. And while the thoughts are endless, the distractions are finite, and have a built-in ability to expire. Expiration leaves me weary and more fearful. The expiration of distraction, too, becomes a fear. Still I walk on.

My empathy depletes my energy sources. With the onset of pain or tragedy, I am left spinning in emotions, uncertain of how to assist, and where to start in the process of uncovering all the information buried beneath layer upon layer of soul-tears. One event turns and quickly bleeds into another—a river of sorts surging and bursting at the bed’s seams and pounding upon terrain after terrain, forging new ground and new thought. Still I walk on.

I see the eyes of the victims of life, hollow, afraid, alone. I understand isolation is a disease of our time, as well as a lingering disconnection. Still I walk on.

Everywhere is poison: food, medicines, waters, earth, animals, man, filled with poison.  Poison as substance and poison as thought. Still I walk on.

I long to sprout wings and hover above, to glide and bless the suffering. I long to weave magic, to soothe and comfort. I long to place a salve of love and salvation across humanity. Still I walk on.

I don’t know where to place my angst, my fear, my pain. And I refuse to pretend life is easy and happy. I question and question: Can I be light and be sad? Can I be light and be confused? Can I be light crying from within the darkness? Still I walk on.

I beg in confusion, and in my absence of vigor and vitality, depleted and drained, I weep. “Give them hope and strength. Show this world, so long emptied of hope a vision, a sign, a destiny. Point us to the path of light.”

And though my feet our weary and my head heavy, still I walk on

With lantern in hand, with angels at my side, I stand motionless, a light to the path, as still, I walk on.