That which begets itself: the ceaseless hunger

Lay author Jonathan Fleming shares his innermost thoughts through the gift of poetry

That which begets itself: the ceaseless hunger

I used to hate to be afraid of anything. To me fear always felt like weakness. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve started to question the validity in confronting every single insecurity. I don’t want to be defeated by these things; but I don’t know, maybe I already am.
Is it cowardice to refuse to be dragged into a fight when you know there’s no end; when you know there’s no victory?
I’m still in my twenties but I’ve lived long enough to have a room in my mental mansion full of the shadow of doubt. It’s in the Upper West Wing where it can await the sunset, that moment of twilight as I close my eyes and begin to fall asleep. It’s whisper is strangely inviting, drawing me into a conversation about my past and all those moments that I’m still questioning. Oddly it waits until the night to bring to light all the decisions that I made in uncertainty; it lays them in front of me and then asks, “Looking back would you choose to do anything differently?” A question I still don’t know how to answer.
I used to fight the fear, try to overcome it; to endure those overwhelming conversations with the sections of my subconscious that still second-guess every single decision I’ve ever made. But honestly, I’m tired of trying to search for a victory that I no longer believe can be achieved through the solitary strength of my resolve. And besides, what’s the worth in searching for answers that never seem to satisfy the ceaseless questions that I consistently contrive in my mind.
Surrendering to You my successes and my failures, whichever each moment reveals itself to be at the end of all things, has proven itself to be my greatest difficulty. But unlike You I can’t return all things to the perfection for which they were made. The sweet taste of victory doesn’t lie in my strength, so I shall surrender my life, and trust it to You, Redeemer of my night.