My heart weighs heavy as I wait in the line; the line that crosses the border between right and the undetermined wrong. What defines fair? Gravity, a law within its own, can’t defend the accusations, the shakiness I have standing over the bridge we’ve made together. I’m praying, screaming, and refusing to let gravity push me into the troubled currents of torment below. Is nothing really as it seems? Can a trust really live up to the responsibility it proclaims to possess? If I search the depths, if I search the questions, which are mutating in my hands, if I search the quest of true repentance like a gentle nobleman, a gentle physician, a gentle inquirer, will I eventually see my Lover’s eyes? My Beloved‘s face? My Admirer’s heart? A heart that beats for only me?