”It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them..”
”I do not trust anyone,” you said.
Trust me to accept as much darkness as you can muster without ever losing sight of your Infinite Light.
Trust me to blab your stories and opinions foolishly as I do my own, for because of your wonder they have become part of my stories and my moods and I can scarcely tell them apart.
Trust me to think left where you think right, to veer right when you journey left, to aggravate you, and irritate you, and believe in things that you find patently ridiculous, and to act in manners that make you feel abhorred.
Trust me to bring chaos into our lives, as I trust you to unsettle us both.
Trust me to be there in your darkest night, rushing to your side as I would race to the side of my most beloved One.
Trust me to be raw and unpredictable and boring, to remind you sometimes of people you randomly hate. Trust me to reveal to you often, and unbeknownst to myself, facets of this fleeting being that make you cringe and judge and recoil.
Trust me to light candles for you, to draw cards for you, to look for your good fortune in my tea leaves.
Trust me to think of you when I stumble on beautiful things, like cracks in time, odd rents in space, the moon on the sea, or a strange bird in flight, to think of you and to wish you were here to see it.
Trust me to be an obnoxious idiot.
Trust me to question your motives, to be angry with you, to forgive you while weeping when you were never in need of any forgiveness at all, to measure you as I do carelessly, measuring all things of this world with hasty, unschooled eyes.
Trust me to remember you before I go to sleep, to see you wrapped up safe in my heart.
Trust me to know you are wandering free in the world.
Trust me to remind Angels to go and watch over you. Constantly.
Trust me to be fickle, frail, human and petty, careless with your secrets sometimes because I forget they are not my own and have inhaled them deep inside my Being as part of my mythos.
Trust me to rail against you.
Trust me but not with your innermost thoughts, and I will keep mine secret too, awkwardly guarding my shadows. For we all need dark and tangled woods near the caves of our hearts where we will wander sometimes, and taste portions that do not fit our true selves, dabble with licentious habits, chafe with obsessions, swim in heady, murky waters, behold all sorts of malignancies, and cavort at Bacchanalian feasts (for we all have minds that need to be fucked into submission), and yet trust me to emerge unscathed, spotless and noble as the cosmic child that I am.
Trust me to pray for you.
Trust me to mourn the loss of you in any way as I would mourn the loss of my very own limbs or a chunk of my soul.
Trust that any imprudence on my part or yours evaporates each new day as the dew rises to meet the Heavens, and trust me to still find it tough to dance to a different tune.
But I will nonetheless step with love on your toes. For I trust you.