(Untitled)

By Drew Fendrich (March 5, 2008)

The burning pyre kept subdued deep within my pounding core, the stallion untamed is held down with ropes, yearning to run in the open fields. But no, I always wary hold it back, afraid that this mysterious force will carry me away down paths I care not to trod upon. Afraid that upon its release I should commit such sin as to be immediately cast into the pit of hell; I do not care much anymore, but for the feeling itself. To lose it is truly worse than eternal damnation. To reach in vain as it flies away is not within my being even to consider.

I, subjugated inside and without hint of emotion to the eye, slowly write each letter as if its presence holds individual sway over my very existence. Is each letter I write the better of the one before? It seems as though the note I strike at any moment will be my last, but always one follows. I am torn in two. The expanse of knowledge within my being, the rational state every man suffers to have, calmly whispers that the darkest hours of my life have meaning, and that reason to prolong the third part of my being surrounds my cerebral eye wherever it takes me.

But screaming at me from the very pit of life and death, screaming as it hammers away beneath my tired frame, is the voice of gloriously horrifying faith, which begs me to consider that reason is an aimless trifle, a path that ends the very moment the foot is set upon it.

With every letter I write I acknowledge the former’s logical sense as the acceptable way. I cannot do otherwise. I am weak and weary, shattered into a thousand fragments of hope and despair, clutching at the largest pieces with a passion that I cannot dissimilate from my existence.

So fortunate, doubting Thomas, who, though he could not bring himself to see the risen Lord, grasped true faith when at last he beheld the Ender of hesitation. A gift he was given that no one since could ever imagine. Were I like him, I wonder, the war raging confidential would henceforth be disbanded, and happy I could pass through this mortal coil.

Drew Fendrich 2008