i want something more, something that is the farthest thing from all of the rote. this suffering must mean something, anything, full of nothing. the price i pay is far less, so much less, than the idea of death daily. step it up, filkins! take it. you beg for it, plead for mercy and grace and love and courage and the best he has to offer and nothing less. so what are you willing to give for it? where is that stalwart dedication, that piercing gratitude and rushing musher? where is the strength when it comes to the grime, the shattered fog? it's so easy
to be christmas at halloween, it's unexpected and not quite right.
but it is beautiful. to mush the pristine beauty of a hem in the caked dirtvomit of the street. of letting go when you want to hold on. of choosing change, not waiting for it to happen. the beauty in that, the gorgeousness: of the highest integrity. let it be said of me, and not just when i am dead. i am willing to give it all. to die today, tomorrow, forever. take my pride father, take the pain i am focused on and show me yours.
love me so thoroughly that i am left without words. so that i may live love with
and the vision of a warrior.