Fault-Lines

I am aware of the fault-lines in my soul,

The tremors in the heart's vicinity,

Years have passed, I have not gained control

Of self and mind – and yet I would be free,

Free of the impatience in my bones,

The restlessness that hinders lasting peace,

Free of the restricting undertones

Of primeval habits from which I seek release.

Slowly She shall build an edifice

To weather the tectonic plates and move

The self to become what it essentially is,

And indivisible portion of Her love.