A plea, to listen if you will

To look back over yesterday and dream a dream. Tears stream down my
face. A bittersweet melody raises my heart and I feel a range of
emotions.

What a night, that unfolds to a silent morning. I walk to t the edge
of my porch, reach to the sky, praying. Hoping that my cries are
not in vain.

And as the sobbing ends I rack my brain of the thoughts pulling
forward. Knowing I, willingly, wait for all that is right to lay
before me. While I listen to the methods drilling inside of
newfound goals, I take one step towards a great hope. Only
hope that you wait.

Yet who am I to tell you anything? Why would you listen
to me? No bond we have but a million fibers we are connected.
Still am I wrong?

And so I just continue to pray. Unwinding all the despair
upon the wind. No carelessly, but that of great hazard. Danger
within the tormented thought - right one but wrong time. And
as the thoughts drink in these mentions I find myself
saying, asking "Why are you, Mary, asking for anyone
to wait for you? How dare you tell someone to halt
who they are becoming for you!"

My selfish acts, thoughts.

With that, all there is, is left open. Bleeding all because the
truth digs deep pulling, harshly, the reality of life.
Dare I breathe incorrectly.

So I just rock myself. Crying more but in response of the
true grit plunging me into a frenzy of courage.

Taking steps. Just keep hoping that the soft command of
"just wait" is something you really want to do.
Oh how I maintain my seclusion. Down to my knees
I fall in thanksgiving, gratitude with slight ache of the
unknown and uncertainty. Some pieces of life that fade
away. Leaving me with no doubt, in the end, to be
grateful of the similarities of the ending of the lake house.
Having some who did listen to my request.

A soft plea is heard. Thoroughly understood that truth
rings in depths.

Does it not?