Alone and at peace with me

Tonite I need no one to validate me.  Tonite I feel a glimmer of what I think it might feel like to have more of my soul back in my possession, more in tact and healing.  The shamans believe the soul can be stolen, I believe the soul can and will leave for survival when bad things happen.  We dream through our lives stripping pieces of ourselves away, dying a little with every stumble, every tear.  But tonite, maybe I shine a little more than last nite.   Maybe I'm just a little more alive, as the moon waxes, the heat rises, my pulse is steady and my resolve is firm.  To celebrate, I prepared myself a meal.  A tall glass of milk; carefully selected grain bread, sliced turkey, fresh spinach and a bright red tomato sliced by my own hand.  I cut the sandwich in half to be sure its dignity was preserved.  And for the first time in many moons, my hunger is sated.  Not because I chose the right food, the right portion, no - because I chose the right person.  I prepared it for me with love.  The dead me doesn't cook for me.  The dying me would never divert the energy from it's daily run of doubt and disappointment.  It tastes like heaven.  It feels like I am worth the effort.  If this excitement lasts through the night, in the morning I'll perform my new daily ritual, gathering the first rays of the morning sun for the most delicious tea to be made for such a weary soul.