The wind breaks the silence, it’s whispering cuts through it like the armoured head of the dread crocodile that swims the river Nile.
Our insecurities whisper also, of a multiple of possibilities, a clamour of thoughts. Each more final, more damning than the other.
It is a fearful thing. Weakness. Ones perception is always narrowed towards it as it worms it’s way through mind and soul.
I desire just two things, two acts to rid me of this malady, to heal my soul and free my spirit.
I wish of you to know who I am, and in that knowledge, understand me. That is the first wish.
Lastly I wish you to tell me, to whisper in my ear that despite my flaws, my shortcomings. I wish you to tell me you love me.