Nothing is clean.
Nothing is pure.
Not even me.
Least of all, me.
I want to live in a world empty of You.
I want to believe that when I kneel
And put my forehead to the ground
I am kneeling before Nothingness.
I want to run along a grey, deserted beach,
Turn around and wave goodbye to You.
So, I will make an island of myself
I will pretend that it’s not You lapping at the shore.
I will pretend that You don’t exist.
But You do exist.
You are the intruder in the night.
You are the echo in my quiet moments.
You are the question and the answer.
You are the precipice
The inviting abyss.
You are the Leap.