Semi-Daily Scribbles

My skin tingles. My appeal to the Warden of the Wood hangs in the air, caught on a current of despair. I enter this place in good faith. My heart is open to reveal desire and longing, pride and shame. I utter an oath of loyalty. The words catch in my throat. I have no more secrets to protect. My journey into the sacred is weighed against every selfless act I have ever carried out. I await the judgment of one who sees in me what I shall never know.