On God's Porch

The moon has risen to my left as I lie on a patchwork of time.

Foamy puzzle pieces rest elegantly on the glass sky; beyond it all, celestial bodies loom, gazing down at me.

Challenging me.

I’ve a self-important soul and a self-conscious spirit. I’m both eager to perform, and dreading of their expectations.

I think of the girl who took a ring as a ticket, and how easy optimism was before this all-new same-old.

I exit the memory and wander the desert in search of my purpose, too stubborn to follow the map laid out for me. I find myself on God’s porch in hope of an answer. It’s the first time in a while that I’ve been here before sundown.

I should know by now to never ask a gift horse for the same gift twice, but when the King tells you your dreams are misplaced where else does one look?

I don’t leave my box. I stare up at the motion-sensor light, unmoving out of fear I’ll learn something I’m not ready to hear.

I fell out of love in June; turns out a three-year-battery just isn’t enough anymore.

Now I need someone to show me I still have a future.

“Who am I supposed to be?” I ask, now that the old guard’s gone.

The glow from within doesn’t just look warm, it sounds loving. It calls to me. It shows me the future I could have if I only come inside.

I grow tired and slither back to familiarity, but being familiar and being comfortable are no longer the same thing.