gonna write it out. gonna wait it out

There are places of importance one should visit. Life changing streets, buildings, monuments, people, scents, skies, beliefs. In the back alleys is where the heart gets lost. Forever. Instilled with every footstep the magnificent grandness lurches above the endless spirit. To this place I must go. The pull of those dusty streets, the barren landscape, the scorching heat, the drought stricken, crackling earth is unending. Goes beyond any other pull I have ever known. I hope to find myself in those lands, find the wandering parts that have roamed unnoticed, unimportant to anyone but me.
 

If this place bestows confidence onto me, then I will turn to whisper my deepest secrets to its streets. If I will be allowed to unmask all that is unholy in me, if these parts would shelter the bare skin, the throbbing flesh of lies, the untruths that have marred the soul, then I would shrink to hear the growing roots, bend to see the careless winds, run to see the motionless rocks of a thousand years gone. Then I would try to be brave enough to listen and believe. To see sense in the one thing that is of truth. The one answer which outlives all other answers. The one love that outloves all other impostors.

The gentle bowing of these men of faith may help to shed the memories of you. Rid the past of your entrenching presence. I will let the winds rush through me, find their way through my fingers, blow from the deepest bellows, scare me into surrender. Your face will no longer linger. The thought of you will no longer haunt.

The deserted land, the soul emptied, these are what await. Stillness in havoc and unruly words flung at each other from arm’s length. I may not see the whole, I may miss the parts that have been veiled. I may visit the land and never see myself in it. But here is a chance. A decisive moment of power, a fate fulfilled, a destiny manifested. These burdened souls, these heavy hearted men of faith will aid my unsure steps towards the place, the time. Towards the other who will listen, who has waited, who has been just as unsure as we all in our unending walks.

This place is bigger than me. Bigger than my heart. Bigger than my soul. This place fills me, finds me, wants me, captures me, releases me. This place is where death equals life, where they will throw dust in my face, where they will embrace all my wounded memories. This place is where I will attempt to unload my burden, come clean about all my lies, find a soul, used a little, scarred in places, but hopeful and beautifully shining in the spring sun. From there on this place will have the best part of me. From there on home will mean something different every time I hear it ring. This journey you should take with me. This place entraps even the most hard of hearts. This place has entrapped me already. Entrapped me before I ever set foot on its dusty streets.