Cool Water

I'm not a moth to the flame, my strength is the variable, because I know that any strength I have left is allotted, it is not my own.
The lengths I've came and what I'm willing to travel, that is...God willing of course.
Yesterday, as I conceded to the lies, I broke under pressure and hurt.
Maybe I didn't handle it professionally, stoicism not my first reaction, but then again, I'm only human.
There is no trust that blooms from a rotten lie.
I catch them with regret more frequently.
I have found the well spring, I know of it's existence, how when the life of the water touches parched lips, the dead in ones soul comes to life again.
However, I cannot use the double edged sword on myself...for as I have said, I am not a moth to the flame.
As I lace up my boots, dust off my attitude, tighten my helmet and consider my own worth based on who I used to be, and with perspective, close my eyes against this sand storm.
I can be satisfied with the occasional oasis this desert brings.
I know my own spring fed cistern is here somewhere, I just have to find it amongst the grains.