Doodle Bug (minikin) wrote,
Doodle Bug
minikin

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a Camel in the Closet

I'm not actually playing music right now -- I-tunes is running, but the speakers are muted. And yet, this is the song that was playing when I started writing.

And yet, I'm neither lost, nor without love, even his.

I didn't get the box of stuff put together.

I didn't go through pictures.

I burned a few candles, and I'll be giving the rest to her.

I didn't write what I needed to write, but I started on it. A short piece, then I got sleepy.

Then I called him, and we talked. He's happy. That's important to me. I'm happy, and it's important to me that he know. All of the rest is circumstance and passing arrangement.

I wanted to write about a young man I know, one who has, and always shall hold a piece of my heart, my soul, that ethereal bit that is me, apart from the physical stuff we are made of. A young man with both wisdom and impatience, both of which called to me.

He taught me so much. He taught me more than he knows himself, that which I don't know.

He loves, fiercely and loyally. He sacrifices himself even in times he would swear to you that self-interest would prevail. He was my passion. He stretched my limits. He taught me to recognize ecstasy so that I can find it anywhere. In the midst of colored glass, hidden by a shade tree. In the sounds of baby laughter. In the deep trust that goes past "he won't hurt me" to "ah, then this is the proper time."

He called me little one, pet, slave, wife.

He would have given me the world but for time and human frailty.

I shall never truly know did he act to save me or himself or us both.

But we are happy.

And, he shall always be in my heart, in the quiet spaces of my soul.

Long, long ago, I was taught to depend only on God, that only He is everlasting. Not so many years ago, I could still feel His prodding, had an inkling of letting God lead rather than my own stubborn will. I always said that if I didn't heed the Raccoons in the Pantry, that He would set a Camel in the Closet.

Out of the desert and surrounded by beauty and joy; no longer blinded to what has been here all along.

Seems no matter my intentions to write a straight-forward piece, a remembrance of the good, all the whys of love, I find myself turning to metaphor and mystery.

I would be lost. If I ever were to be without love. But now I understand that will never happen. Now I understand the tiniest inkling of the scope of His love.

I am safe. I have a navigator.

Pictures can wait for another day.
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