Sunday, June 19, 2011
Is It TIme?
You gave me breath, a heartbeat, you gave me life. You, my creator, my lover, came to me sometimes in the early morning, sometimes in the brightness of the midday, there were even times when you came to me in the dead of night. I always welcomed the touch of your fingers on the keyboard, through your words I lived.
I cannot allow myself to believe what I fear the most. The thoughts beat at the door of my weakening heartbeat, that perhaps I will soon be no longer. Like a patient lying on his deathbed I survive only by the wires connecting me. I tremble, fearing my heartbeat will soon be flat-lined from the pulling of the plug. Much like the dying patient I have no voice, my life is in your hands. Days pass, your touch, cannot be felt, your words do not come, you deny me breath, you deny me life, my heart weakens. I'm scared I will soon be nothing but the darkness from which I came.