God save us.

I'm losing faith, and I'm losing it quick.

As if this existence were a swift river and faith - merely an indistinguishable pebble tossed about within it. As if my hands were too small, too frail to clutch it. Too weak and too cold to hold it should I happen upon it in my desperate flailing downstream, caught up within this undeterable current. As if the rapids only pause long enough to give imaginary relief, so our feeble eyes might once again spot faith somewhere in our midst. As if this river were made to carry me further out to the unknown, farther out away from land. Land made up of stone upon stone of the very faith we are chasing in this river. As if we all can reside only in the water that is pulling our heads under.

Can this pattern have a true and beautiful form? Can this river do more than drown?
Or, shall we learn to breathe beneathe it and escape this temporal hold upon us?

I fear any answer would be too formidable to approach, and so I shy. I stray. I flounder about in water I can not reach bottom in. I strain and I gasp at air I only hope I will reach. I sink and spin and accidentally find the surface again.

Something must be watching me, must be showing me - for I have not died yet.

A letter to consider:

Dearest, the following you already know. Perhaps, should we re-examine it, we will find answers anew.

I've had something of a bad week. Bad in events, but worse in confrontational concepts.

I'm beginning to wonder if this whole speaking-of-the-truth isn't overrated. Perhaps, it is better to say that it is underrated, in a way. In the effect it will have on your life. When you go around saying things that people find controversial or outrageous, they have a tendency to look at you differently. Only slightly, though, right? Not exactly.

I feel our points of view are offensive to many. I wonder how long we will be getting away with this. If we were to examine historically, it doesn't work for very long. Either you end up like Elijah or you end up like Christ. So, it just doesn't fare well.

Yet to this offense, I see more than such a stirring - a silence. A space so full of lack of movement that it becomes a thin void. Mouths resting so still they are barely breathing. I wish, either condemnation or confirmation, some response would come forth and echo against this hollow hall. Any movement to show that our words have not fallen on deafness or death.

For the silence begs a terrifying question: Have we spoken truth or simply offense? Have we moved in good or simply perpetuated more of this selfish evil we were attempting to extinguish? Have they heard, comprehended anything at all?

At times, it is difficult to tell. One can no longer gauge success with popularity, with acceptance, with progress in one direction or another. One can no longer cling to the old upheld ideas. One can no longer use the old compasses to chart one's direction.

But when all of our known bearing-markers are broken, how can we continue to forge aheead. With what do we forge?

These are the questions I see staring us in the face, my love. And we must face then.
We must answer: where can we go from here? And we must answer honestly.
But, I fear this movement that we sense may be a stronger current than we are. I fear it may sweep us under. I fear it may defeat us.
If not that, the forces against it will surely crush us under foot.

But, if any of that should happen, perhaps we would have done good, anyway.
We can only hold to this hope. For it is the hope of life.
Is it not?

This is much more complex

I am beginning to see how this world is much deeper than we once thought it was.

Or, perhaps like my elfae and faerae, we once knew just how complex all of these systems were - but we have forgotten.

All of the colors are not merely beautiful to please the eye. Each color serves its purpose for the eyes that can see it, for the light that might touch it.
Eggs are white so they don't boil the waiting chick inside.
Animals only see certain colors so they are attracted to what they ought to eat.

Every aspect of this natural world we shame is much more useful than we are.
At least, it appears to me.

We were meant to comprehend it. We were meant to work within it, to claim so as to care for it. We were meant to be the ones outside of instinct, the ones that made this system eternal.

But we have forgotten and plunged this system into indescribable tumult.
We are the cause for this flood. We are the reason for this fire.
And the world will burn and crumble, will falter and fail because of us - who were meant to be the lords of it.

We have made a corrupt game, and it has beaten us.
We have played a cheating hand, and we have been found out.
We have slighted our position, and the system will soon ban us from it.

The [comically] Worst Day Ever

I felt great. Everything was going my way.
Then, I slowly began to unravel.

I dumped over a full 20 ounce hot beverage all over the espresso bar.
I proceeded to get severely behind as I had to clean it up and remake the beverage.
I nearly dropped a full tray of dishes off a table.
Resigning, I went home with warm thoughts of the day getting much better.

Getting home, I found myself quite hungry.
I went to make toast, dropped the toaster, and burned myself.
I went to apply burn spray and hit myself in the eye with the lid, as it soared off the spray at my face.
And I proceeded to lay on the couch the rest of the evening, spraying aloe from a broken spray bottle on my burned fingers whist trying, with no such luck , to reach my husband who was probably completing some much more important final at school.

Ridiculous.