Sunshine and Sand

I haven’t had this much reason to be happy in a long time. And yet, the sombre voice of reason and realism always issues the same stern caution to a ludicrous and foolhardy heart – that, more often than not, these episodes are but short-lived and fleeting.

As if in retort to my complaints of a seemingly boring and doldrum-y 2007, 2008 has indeed begun with a bigger bang than I’d ever imagined. Then again, maybe I did run through all the possibilities in my mind, indulged myself in its every guilty pleasure, but laughed it off as nothing but a silly daydream.

Hm. But well, well.

I never picked myself to actually have the opportunity to witness the thrills and spills of a ’summer fling’. Although now, slowly waking from the heady intoxication of the sunshine and sand, I am slowly but surely mentally fortifying myself for the very real possibility that I may be a victim of this phenomenon I’ve only seen played out in movies like The Notebook.

I still can’t seem to trust you. I still can’t say for certain, statements laden with belief or wishful hope. I’m still haunted by the shadows of your past, feeling the sting from your scars, and deathly afraid of how that might taint, discolour and discredit the sanctity of a future.

So I still don’t know what this means to you, but as the song goes, I’ve learnt, that -

Love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

I sincerely hope that this isn’t some conquest to you – one that you know you’ve already won. I pray with all my might that this isn’t some sick game – the one you picked up and read all those years ago and have now relegated to a far corner of a dusty bookshelf.

Because I’m more than just a pawn. I’m not some dispensable piece you can sacrifice for some greater victory. Surprise, surprise, I was never that selfless.

I want to be the last one standing when we make it through.

At the end of the day, love reduces us to nothing but a place of brokenness. It is like a bottomless pit, or perhaps for the more idealistic, a well that never runs dry; its sole purpose but to give, and give, and give some more. Every new day, bringing renewed patience and refreshed hope, no matter how deep and thick the darkness of night may fall.

Well, I think I can safely say that I’ve given everything I’ve got. It takes a particular kind of utter vulnerability, to strip yourself of everything in front of and for another; and I mean that both figuratively and literally.

When you’ve reached such a point, of stark nakedness, there is nothing left to do, but cry for mercy.

So here I am, at the mercy of your hands, and Your hands.

To you: I really want to believe that you’ll pull through this time. For my heart is fragile, and can almost bear no more.

To You: Have Your way, oh Lord. And having just said that, I’m so afraid of You doing just exactly that, if it means that I have to surrender the pictures and plans that I’ve wilfully drawn up for my life. I’m sorry for the things that I’ve made, if they have indeed been of my doing. I still cling to the hope that You have had a hand in the transpiration of recent events. But just for now, would You give consideration to a desperate plea – Soften his heart, oh God, and if not, give me the strength to find another way.

So let it be.