The Cost

It’s the void that must be tended.
Tended and perhaps defended.

Defended from a false intent,
By another swiftly sent.

Softly offered as a way.
Or as the words that I will say.

Words that carry to a thought.
Then to an act, and to an ought.

For a force larger than me.
One that makes it feel so free.

Free from guilt, free from onus,
Free from feeling empty lowness.

For I am wanting something bigger.
For ‘I am’ is a trigger.

I am. What does that mean?
Does it mean I’m in between?

Between a want and a possess.
Between a more and a less.

And for once I do have more.
I can feel it to my core.

Although yet, I am confused.
It feels a bit like I’ve been used.

It’s as if my prior voids,
Have not been filled but deployed.

Deployed for someone else’s want.
I went along so nonchalant.

And now a purpose turns to shame.
And now I will not be the same.

I have been shook, I have been shaken.
I got to see how I’ve been taken.

How do I tend and guard a void?
And build a life I can enjoy?

I will start with a question.
I will be wary of suggestion.

I will take vice with a grain.
I will embrace, not a-void pain.

I’ll watch it all from the within.
I will walk toward the fields of sin.

The sin that surely must be faced.
And then transmuted and replaced.

This is my will, this is my way.
For now, this is all I can say . . .

These are things I can’t un-see.
This is the cost of being free.
© 2022 TheRememberings Ltd.

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