In the Whirlwind

Confusion. The blown leaves of past emotions gathering at the door, impeding its swing as I stand there, hesitant about whether it should even be opened. Sometimes I feel handicapped by the passions that grow so easily inside of me and sometimes I want to stand beneath the caress of the sun and scream. Impatience. Show me the end before the beginning and I'll make the journey all it can be. Catch 22 because the journey is made by the mystery ahead. But I just don't want to wait to find out that I'm wrong. Fear. Often denied but always present. Are my steps too quick and am I all I need to be? Always the threat of coming up short. I have before. Stubbornness. I'll open the door and let the leaves blow through, step quickly inside and scream as I do. When I fall, there will be scars and pain, but I'll always be quick to get up again. Limping on in an attempt to redeem, but hoping for someone on which to lean.