The writer in love enters the world of sufism.

I wage war against any and all, any and all who wish to submit me.

They don’t understand the soul.

They might speak of philosophy, the coward’s way.

I say, walk through fire instead, I dare you to fall and stay in love. I dare you to live a human life.

My heart in adulthood beats fast, hurriedly so, alarmingly so.

It tells me to slow down, it tells me how I will die.

It knows I want to live fully, it knows I have the soul of a militant but I have an uncorruptible mind.

I choose to live authentically to the best of my ability. I will not tolerate lies. I will not bend over to please you. I sniff and reject what you are until you become someone.

A large part of my inner child is stuck fantasizing about age old promises. The promise and commitment of marriage, the existence of the sacred and divine, the role of mystery in our lives.

Some time ago, I must confess dear reader, a gentleman made a promise to this child and did not follow through. This is imprinted in me as it is on him. Attempts to remedy this failed and two empty chalices remain resting on a table next to a jug of wine, forever needlessly awaiting. Because I am certain that once a promise is made, it materializes alongide desire, it has not shattered, we did not destroy it. No matter regime changes and terrorism. They are waiting for us to finalize the promise which understandibly due to countless variables cannot be done.

That child is still in love with you and believes in you, but you are one stubborn individual. As I stated before, I will not tolerate bullshit. My heart beats fast as an adult, dear reader, it says “I am alive, I am alive, I am alive.”