All that wander are not lost

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.^[1]

I feel as tho I am to burst. My mask is slipping and inch by inch the "child" seeps through. I don't even know what's left to say or discuss, I have ground these thoughts to dust and I can see the writing on the wall so why ask for confirmation of the "child's" deepest fear?

Consider the title, it is not an Italian saying or one of any notice or fame. Perhaps "it" dug it up from the recesses of his endless bucket of high and mighty I may never know. But my goddess adores it regardless and that only brings pause. I wandered and was truly lost to the wilds of this world and it's people. But was she lost? Was she in complete control or had the understanding of what was happening and although the path was unclear the outcome foreseen? And furthermore what does it matter if at all? I don't think it does but more and more the "child" breaks free and all I hear and all that rattles in my mind is "will you ever be what "it" was?" Or "will what "it" stole ever be yours?".

Again last night I wandered. In the metaphysical of course. The dark corners of my mind have been my home when the lights go out. Which paradoxically is the time I am at most comfort, perhaps some correlation I may never know and at this point is irrelevant to the exercise at hand. It's always the same:

A wood at dusk
The rain
A pile of rocks
Them... together...
The passion...
The thunder
Half a dozen rainbows like interlocking Olympic Rings...

I wake violently and try to wash the images from my mind all the while knowing they will simply return in time. But I look beside me and feel at peace (the only peace I can seem to find along this path) within my goddess's embrace. I believe her wandering is over, and mine as well save for the journey I take on a nightly basis. And when the morning comes I am left with the "child" and it's questions and I still ponder. Hoping against hope to finally grasp something different that I may have missed, failing every time of course because there is nothing to dissect or discuss. So why write? Merely to pour out the poison that "it" gave her to drink and that myself and my stupid curiosity never ceases to purge. We both drank of the poison and now neither of us for the sake of the other will ever be rid of it. I hope these writings are not fruitless, that someday they will help rid me of this poison. For both our sakes. I realize I cannot live in the past nor should I dwell on things that cannot change but I surmise I feel this strongly because for the first time in my life I have something I cannot bare to lose. My goddess is everything and to lose her I could not even begin to imagine. I also realize I'm being selfish, for her pain in this regard eclipses my own. That is why the deflection. And again there is nothing left to say or do for the past is where it shall remain. I merely pray for peace, to put the "child" and it's fears to bed. Make no mistake I am happier than I have ever been and I think that's why I have such a hard time expelling this demon as it won't go quietly. I can only work diligently at being what "it" was not, simply working to fill any gaps and cracks "it" left with the hope that I am not a stand in or a replacement. Deep down I think I am more I just need to remind myself that I am and if not that I can be. Perhaps these writings will help or perhaps they won't. Only time will tell, till then I will continue to wander in the hopes that I am not lost anymore. For with my goddess I am home, so how could I possibly be lost?