I have lived a life of solitude, and loneliness has been my constant companion. For long and long I have lived alone, but it is not the choice I would have made - had I had a choice. I have searched high and low for one I could love, and would in return love me, and never have I found her. Perhaps it will be her who finds me, would that not be the ultimate irony?
My accustomed way of life is difficult for many to grasp, much less accept. In a sedentary farmers world, I am a rover, a wayfarer upon the highways of life, and it is a life without the stability many women seek. A road is never so lonely as when you travel it alone.
The sky is of an ebony hue, as I pour the misery of my stomach out in ink upo the paper. The night has grown late and once more sleep has eluded me. It is in the long hours of the Third Watch that I began to pour out my thoughts, and though my duties have ended, I still continue. I am in a situation where life seems to be spiralling out of control, and nowhere I turn are answers to be found.
When life is simple faith is easy, but at times like this my desire for control seems to ( at times
) occlude my faith. I know that all I have to do is let go, but it goes against all of my instinct, and training. In my minds eye I can envision it; a warrior, weary and worn, in armor wrent and cloven, with his back to an open gate. Fighting all comers, because to retreat, even through the gate, would seem a dishonor.
I lack the capability of fear, if I did not, I am certain that worry wwould cloud my mind. Fear for the future would be a certainty, but instead I plot and plan, and try to decide my next moves. As always I seem to be in a situation where I lack enough information to make an informed decision. I flip a coin and it lands on edge. I gather that I must take the advice I gave to another not so long ago; without looking take a leap of faith. Now must I practise what I teach, ironic no?