trying to light a little light down here

stairwell accompaniment:Guster-Mona Lisa

Board a plane to London, you say. And in all honesty, everything in me, every selfish, narcissistic, flight-risk-prone part of me screams in giddy shrills of agreement. We will meet there, in a train station perhaps. And in our best British accents we will take on the city as each undiscovered eccentricity of our personalities is exploited to the fullest. We will go native, Piccadilly will be our playground, sipping tea, conversation with the locals and we will be mysterious. More than an adventure, it would be a new beginning. A genesis of sorts. Forgetting all that plagues me here and now. But if London were the answer to all my deepest fears, this threshold I have found myself upon; if running away with you was the elucidation that would bring about this abundant life I so desire, how am I to work out my faith with fear and trembling?
I will not give way to fear. I do desire to go everywhere, so see everything, to feel it all to the margins--I desire to be pursued under the light of risk, courage and ruthless trust. But to want everything, in fact, is to want nothing! Must I specify?
I consistently find that I am a little girl in a summer dress walking along the pier toward some sort of end, be it water or air. And desire that he holds my hand.
Board a plane to London, you say. You will pay my way. You will pull me out of this heartache as you promise. And if my desire was in you, if you were my best friend, if my longing was for you, we would stand at the base of the Westminster and I would be overjoyed. (it is not so)
In truth, I don't fear a flight over the ocean. I have crossed and back before. I fear that fear will rule through incertitude and it will all pass us by.
Unwaveringly, I will not give way to fear.

I have been rescued far too many times to allow worry to be draped around my neck any longer. It would weigh me down, it would push my eyes to the floor.