Beautiful Soul

I am without a skeleton,

a pile of flesh on the drafty tiled floor.

I no longer exist.

Yet, I am still here, not ascended to the afterlife.

Cold, dark, weeping, mourning who I just was.

Untethered from the world, drifting in darkness,

swimming in my pile of flesh.

I pray for Ascension, but will settle for darkness.

This listless, lifeless, heap of flesh is no longer mine.

I no longer have armor.

I no longer see light.

Lost in a world of limbo, too far from what was, with the

inability to see what is or what will be.

Proverbial goo.

I am inert.

I tire.

I waste away.

I relent.

Death would be better than this purgatory He has placed me in.

Dear God release me - allow me to move forward, to grow, to be

light, to experience the sun and freedom!

But not, he does not respond.

He does not want me to be in the light.

He wants me to face the darkness,

to become one with the shadow,

to walk once more, as the beautiful soul I am.