I am sad right now. I can't explain my sadness. It wells up inside of me, but my life is going good right now. I truly am blessed. I can rely on God for everything. Your Son, your Spirit, there is no I for we are together in this, along with everyone else who loves your Son.
I started school today, and I was one among two other guys in the class. The rest were girls. I say girl as I looked around and wrote notes at the same time. This is a history class, the stories of humanity. I know history is a boring subject to most, but I'm in the business of stories, and the human ones that people want to attach to, relate to, delve into to escape wherever they are or experience something they haven't experienced may once have happened somewhere else in some other time. More or likely it did. But I didn't see girls, my mind was too preoccupied with other things. My life has never felt more scheduled and less scheduled. I'll have my associates by the end of spring next year and from there only God knows. I only want God to know. I can only petition my Lord for His great grace in my life. All I know is that I want to stop feeling like this. I'll keep petitioning because He loves me and much more beyond.
I'll scream out something later, I'll write to her later as well, I'll be praying much before I do the latter and playing something loud while I do the first.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Weight
It is something woken up with--an invisible stone
of unknown size taken into account each morning
as our bodies shift into auto gear, and our only
hesitation comes from the slight pressure of the
brake pedal--and then there is no more, no
mode of transportation, no cliff face, no precipice
to gaze longingly after--you are at the thresh hold
standing in empty space left naked and vulnerable
--cries have nowhere to travel as they are absorbed
like raindrops in a dark, vast ocean that does
not sway or tear asunder--it sits placid as
the dead lifeless heart of a cadaver on a silver
platter where no order was taken, no chaos
registered to go, it is the gross enclosing shackles
of dead earth falling into an unmarked pit of
no remorse, the cinder block at the bottom of the
sea that the thinker calls his throne, and you the
image reflection staring back at the slice of water
on your side of air, waiting for the air bubbles
to rise, for some sliver of light to pierce the stone
that woke up inside of you this morning, all while
the sun sat attentively listening in your lap.
~Written in the empty quiet of the church~
of unknown size taken into account each morning
as our bodies shift into auto gear, and our only
hesitation comes from the slight pressure of the
brake pedal--and then there is no more, no
mode of transportation, no cliff face, no precipice
to gaze longingly after--you are at the thresh hold
standing in empty space left naked and vulnerable
--cries have nowhere to travel as they are absorbed
like raindrops in a dark, vast ocean that does
not sway or tear asunder--it sits placid as
the dead lifeless heart of a cadaver on a silver
platter where no order was taken, no chaos
registered to go, it is the gross enclosing shackles
of dead earth falling into an unmarked pit of
no remorse, the cinder block at the bottom of the
sea that the thinker calls his throne, and you the
image reflection staring back at the slice of water
on your side of air, waiting for the air bubbles
to rise, for some sliver of light to pierce the stone
that woke up inside of you this morning, all while
the sun sat attentively listening in your lap.
~Written in the empty quiet of the church~
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