Something my father once said:
You can spend your whole life trying to find your way, and never find it. And then when your life is over, you will look back and see your way, and realize that you never would have found it.
Ash Sunday
Here I am, sitting amidst the wreckage of the life we built
Betrayed by my closest friend
Abandoned by those who said they would stand beside me
Ignored by an indifferent God, who proves himself not worthy of my faith
My mouth has bourne this acrid taste for so long
it seems natural now.
Nothing fits, nothing moves
No light enters.
Only dark.
In the dark, they move
Dead men and women, pretending to be alive
As if their animation can bring them to life.
They go through the motions
But the stench is overwhelming.
And so I wait,
No longer hoping for deliverance
Now I pray for obliteration
For some lasting escape
from the ashes of a burning cross.
If I have learned anything in the past two years, it is this: at times, there simply are no words.
I have reached the place where every aspect of my life situation is utterly ridiculous. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a Salvador Dali painting. How do you make sense of the absurd? How do you meet God in the places where even rational thought breaks down? What can you possibly hold on to?
I’m tired, Lord. Tired of trying, Tired of pursuing you, Tired of my mind’s efforts to make sense of the senselessness that has turned my world upside down. If hell is the absence of you, then I am in it. I no longer can even pretend to believe. I have no faith left, except the faith that you are here even in our faithlessness.
Come soon. My life is on fire, and the flames are not dying down.
Blogged with Flock
No commentsIt’s funny how having too many creative outlets can be just as stifling as having not enough.
Blogged with Flock
No commentsWho can you count on? You can’t count on people; people always let you down. You can’t count on your loved ones; they will eventually betray you. You can’t count on god, any more than you can count on the wind. You can’t count on yourself, because you know your own failings too well.
This is what it means to be alone.
Blogged with Flock
No commentsLife is the process of the universe as it choose us up and spits us out.
When you are young, you fight against this, because it seems like it will make a difference.
When you are no longer young, you stop fighting, because it seems like it will make a difference.
When you are old, you realize that neither fighting nor giving in make any difference.
Blogged with Flock
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