Home, I arrived. The day had been long.
My environs had been noisy, clashing, challenging. Words were suspect. Motives were judged. Anger was clear. Pain bubbled like a cauldron. For love to constantly be on trial is a lose-lose situation. It is like the paleness of death against the backdrop of dark distrust painting a stark picture of hopelessness. Life seeps out through the crack under the door, seeking a heart and home in which love flourishes and thrives.
Home, I entered. The evening hours are welcomed.
My haven is quiet, an oasis of solitude. Words are celebrated. Motives are weighed. Brokeness is obvious. Grace bubbles like a fountain. For love to constantly be sought is an unending adventure. It is like a gentle caress against the backdrop of cold indifference, a picture of hope. Life enters through doors and windows flung open wide, seeking a heart and home in which love flourishes and thrives.
Within a matter of moments, I feel the tension in my neck and shoulders begin to release its grip. Within a matter of hours, my mind settles contentedly within the oasis. Steady drops of rain beat against the window panes, washing away the outward dirt and grime. Steady reminders of Truth pass before my eyes and into my ears. Praise and promise strike in tandem within my heart. Within days, I will be untoxicated. Within life, it must be a deliberate and unending pursuit.