The Hole

All I see is darkness, all around me pure darkness.
All I hear is silence, nothing but silence.
A silence so loud it is deafening to my ears, a silence so loud it drowns out my screams so no one hears.
I see nothing, hear nothing, I feel nothing. I am in a hole; I have fallen in a hole.
A hole so deep and dark that all hope of salvation seems lost, forever.
My mind races for answers but I am unsure of the questions.
Where am I? How did I get here? Who dug this hole?
Why did they dig such a deep and inescapable hole?
Then my mind recalls an image, an image of a beautiful landscape.
A landscape so lovely it was almost perfect.
A picturesque landscape that I desperately wanted to be a part of.
A landscape I had to make my own. But something was missing
Yes, it would be perfect if I made just a few changes.
So I moved a few things here and there, but still something was missing
Yes that was it, something of my own. Something I created.
So I started to dig. MY GOD! I dug the hole!
I tried to change what God had made, and instead of adding to its beauty I made something ugly. Now I realize, I am in the hole I made.
Now the hole is a grave, I dug a grave, my grave.
I feel all hope is lost, I am scared, I am Dieing.
Dieing alone in the grave I made.
But I am not alone, someone is out there. Out there looking in at me!
HELP ME! DEAR GOD PLEASE HELP ME!
But he is standing there looking down at me. Just standing there looking at me and crying. He is crying?!
Why is he crying? I am the one trapped in this prison of my own making. I know that man. My eyes are now strain to see his face as my mind searches to remember.
Who is he? And why is he crying? He so familiar, he looks like a man I once knew long ago.
He was someone I once cared for very much, someone I...I...Dear God I do know him, he is,...ME!
God I do not understand, how can it be me if I am in this hole, the hole I dug?
And in an instant the answers began flooding in.
I am not in the hole, the hole is in me, the hole is me.
I tried so hard to change what God had made me, and instead of adding to the beauty of his creation I destroyed it!
Now new questions welled up inside me. Who am I? Who was I?
As I stood at the edge of the hole looking in at the man I had buried I cried. I cry for now I understand that I had killed that man. Killed him with my own hands and buried him in the hole that I had dug.
A hole not in dirt and stone,
A hole dug in flesh and bone.
A hole dug out of something much more precious than anything else on earth
My spirit, My soul.
I am the hole, I am a grave filled with the corps of the man I should have been.