There's an echo in my soul that won't let go
a sad, sad song that takes its toll.
Would it be that for my heart to die that I'd find peace
or would chaos reign and my joy to cease?
If only I could see my days
and tread the path of the righteous way.
But my soul grows still, it will not stir
my desire fails, I move no more.
My dreams are more real to me than my waking life. I long for sleep if only to escape the pain. It feels to me that in the land of Nod I live, while reality is the ugly dream without an end. I neglect my body, my friends, worsening the guilt of my chosen isolation; knowing I could turn it around yet having no motivation to do so. I long for companionship, yet despise it. I yearn to see the world yet find the worlds of my mind easier to travel.
I find temporary solace in the arms of another, momentary happiness in the little things of life, and I still laugh hard and laugh often. I have changed, grown, yet am the same. Even when I feel so close to someone or surrounded by people I trust and care for, I still feel alone. Even as I spread little forget-me-nots around, I don't wish to be remembered. I want to be kept. I only find peace with my God, and yet still pursue the Divine in humanity. Deep calling unto deep, I reach out for the spark of God within the souls around me.
But even then, the pain returns. For lying below the light are shadows. Humanity is the ultimate paradox: designed with the intention to walk beside the Divine, and yet more demonic than demons. We live with choice, every moment of every day. Shadow or Light, good or ill. Shrouding maliciousness, jealousy, and agendas with good actions; using cruelty and cutting remarks to mask insecurities and fears. We lash out in defense like a cornered animal.
I was told that those who would hurt me are not truly my friends. "They don't deserve you. Leave 'em." But I do not deserve humanity. Humans are still kind - they still care. Many work in fields to make their little corner of the world a better place, reaching out with hands that want to heal, to help, to support, to serve. The spark of God still remains. If only I lived on a world of absolutes, of the binary of good and evil, it'd be easier. Yes, there are some absolutes, but even in a black and white photograph, there is always so much grey. And I see in colors.
There's a wind passing through the trees
there's a swelling in the underseas.
Whispers over and behind and around
sighing for the lost and the found.
If only I could find someone
who could translate the lullaby's of the One.
But my soul does stir, I know it well
the voice of the Master commands me "Tell!"
Yes, thanks to God, I can see what others cannot. The spectrum is broad indeed. And my filter is a reverse prism, condensing everything I see into one beam that comes from the Above. But I am flawed. Sometimes I cannot reconcile what I take in. Sometimes I cannot bring the conversation back round to my God. Sometimes - all too often really - I am at a loss. I am left overwhelmed by the information I try to absorb. The pain becomes unbearable.
There are times where I, in my human state, feel like my gifts are more of a curse than a blessing. Yes, I see light and shadow, negative and positive equally. And sometimes I focus too much on one over the other. And that's what hurts. Temptations, misinformation, misdirection, lies, and my own personal wants come into play, corrupting the stream. I walk on the earth, among the peoples, among individuals and groups. And I feel them. I see them. X-ray vision of the heart.
And I cannot understand what I see. Pain and joy...lies and trust...love and apathy...masks and truth...respect and racism...complexes and minimalism...creation and sabotage...pride and hope...generation after generation living out humanity in their own way. If only I could be insane and take pills to make it all fade. But as if I'm a walking antenna, I get struck by lightning. Over and over again. My sight is opened and my soul rendered to shreds.
Someday, maybe someday, I'll be done with the road of Solomon of Ecclesiastes and finally stop my chorus of "Everything is meaningless, empty!" Or perhaps the path I tread is the path of the Psalmists, pouring out everything until I am dry and still wrung for every last drop of joy and grief. But that will never cease. For even when the music's gone, my voice can still be heard. For my voice is not mine.
My story is your story. My song is your song. Your life, your breath, God knows. God sees. And when I am allowed by God to see, I too see. I may only see a part of the picture, but I see you. My prayers are for you. I am an intern, apprentice of the great Intercessor. I serve and study under the one who speaks words beyond language and utterance, speaking and sighing and singing to God. Do I understand what is I see or feel? Almost never. Once in a while I do understand, but for the most part, I simply try to obey.
a sad, sad song that takes its toll.
Would it be that for my heart to die that I'd find peace
or would chaos reign and my joy to cease?
If only I could see my days
and tread the path of the righteous way.
But my soul grows still, it will not stir
my desire fails, I move no more.
My dreams are more real to me than my waking life. I long for sleep if only to escape the pain. It feels to me that in the land of Nod I live, while reality is the ugly dream without an end. I neglect my body, my friends, worsening the guilt of my chosen isolation; knowing I could turn it around yet having no motivation to do so. I long for companionship, yet despise it. I yearn to see the world yet find the worlds of my mind easier to travel.
I find temporary solace in the arms of another, momentary happiness in the little things of life, and I still laugh hard and laugh often. I have changed, grown, yet am the same. Even when I feel so close to someone or surrounded by people I trust and care for, I still feel alone. Even as I spread little forget-me-nots around, I don't wish to be remembered. I want to be kept. I only find peace with my God, and yet still pursue the Divine in humanity. Deep calling unto deep, I reach out for the spark of God within the souls around me.
But even then, the pain returns. For lying below the light are shadows. Humanity is the ultimate paradox: designed with the intention to walk beside the Divine, and yet more demonic than demons. We live with choice, every moment of every day. Shadow or Light, good or ill. Shrouding maliciousness, jealousy, and agendas with good actions; using cruelty and cutting remarks to mask insecurities and fears. We lash out in defense like a cornered animal.
I was told that those who would hurt me are not truly my friends. "They don't deserve you. Leave 'em." But I do not deserve humanity. Humans are still kind - they still care. Many work in fields to make their little corner of the world a better place, reaching out with hands that want to heal, to help, to support, to serve. The spark of God still remains. If only I lived on a world of absolutes, of the binary of good and evil, it'd be easier. Yes, there are some absolutes, but even in a black and white photograph, there is always so much grey. And I see in colors.
There's a wind passing through the trees
there's a swelling in the underseas.
Whispers over and behind and around
sighing for the lost and the found.
If only I could find someone
who could translate the lullaby's of the One.
But my soul does stir, I know it well
the voice of the Master commands me "Tell!"
Yes, thanks to God, I can see what others cannot. The spectrum is broad indeed. And my filter is a reverse prism, condensing everything I see into one beam that comes from the Above. But I am flawed. Sometimes I cannot reconcile what I take in. Sometimes I cannot bring the conversation back round to my God. Sometimes - all too often really - I am at a loss. I am left overwhelmed by the information I try to absorb. The pain becomes unbearable.
There are times where I, in my human state, feel like my gifts are more of a curse than a blessing. Yes, I see light and shadow, negative and positive equally. And sometimes I focus too much on one over the other. And that's what hurts. Temptations, misinformation, misdirection, lies, and my own personal wants come into play, corrupting the stream. I walk on the earth, among the peoples, among individuals and groups. And I feel them. I see them. X-ray vision of the heart.
And I cannot understand what I see. Pain and joy...lies and trust...love and apathy...masks and truth...respect and racism...complexes and minimalism...creation and sabotage...pride and hope...generation after generation living out humanity in their own way. If only I could be insane and take pills to make it all fade. But as if I'm a walking antenna, I get struck by lightning. Over and over again. My sight is opened and my soul rendered to shreds.
Someday, maybe someday, I'll be done with the road of Solomon of Ecclesiastes and finally stop my chorus of "Everything is meaningless, empty!" Or perhaps the path I tread is the path of the Psalmists, pouring out everything until I am dry and still wrung for every last drop of joy and grief. But that will never cease. For even when the music's gone, my voice can still be heard. For my voice is not mine.
My story is your story. My song is your song. Your life, your breath, God knows. God sees. And when I am allowed by God to see, I too see. I may only see a part of the picture, but I see you. My prayers are for you. I am an intern, apprentice of the great Intercessor. I serve and study under the one who speaks words beyond language and utterance, speaking and sighing and singing to God. Do I understand what is I see or feel? Almost never. Once in a while I do understand, but for the most part, I simply try to obey.