Routine

it's kind of humorous to me (kind of)
how terrifying routines are to me.
the way i fight outside of reason
to keep from being placed inside of a box of obligation.
only to find that i'd done it to myself long ago.

it's interesting to wake up to the same thoughts
every day. the same worries, the same dreams.
but they never progress, they never change.
i move along all day long, and never go anywhere.
and i blame everything else but me.

it's sobering to see the rapidity of life.
how fast it comes, and how quickly it's slipping away.
how it is actually possibly to sleep away your life.
to live in a dream world of safe routine,
only to wake up a life-time later to the end.

i don't want my recycled moments of safety.
the familiar, easy, tried.
i don't want to make it through to the end
and not have cried, fought, worked for what i love.
i don't want to wake up in the arms of GOD and feel that i hadn't done enough.

How long my GOD?

if the mountains were crumbling all around,
and the hill sides were melting like wax.
but only that those without were well,
then i know i would be fine.
GOD, smite me.
take me.
may life hurl it's insults upon me.
for i know there is not a pain in this world,
that is not my own fault.
but, O my God, spare; do not allow,
do not allow sin to smother those around me,
and me to only stand by and watch.
i cannot watch, O God.
come quickly, and with You,
bring healing.
come quickly, and shed Your light.
hurry swiftly to these smoldering lands,
and save Your remnant.
only, God, may i live to fight for You,
and may i die also fighting for You.

What is Enough?

The weight of uncertainty, the pull of productivity.
The things that spin out of the control of your hands.
The things we cannot change. The things we wish we could.
No one wakes up and hopes things to go this way.
Everything's so critical, so busy, you feel lost.
Maybe no one asks you how you're doing.
But maybe you wouldn't tell them anyway.
And it's a release you say you need.
I wish I could protect you, and bring back parts of your life.
To retract things you never should have had do see or feel.
I wish sin didn't wound so deep.
And that deeper wounds weren't used to compensate.
I just want for you to believe the Truth.
To hear the Gospel, as it was always for you.
To see the wounds that took your place.
Only Jesus' pain and suffering bring change, bring peace.
God, we're so broken.
Jesus, we're fractured into a thousand pieces.
Abba, when will the pain stop?
When will the sun rise again?

Honesty

maybe i'm just cynical, but let's not kid ourselves.
you think you hurt now?
just wait, it can get worse.
you thought that was the worse case scenario?
just wait, you'll see worse.
they "never saw it coming"
that is, until it came.
present things are difficult,
until they are in the past.
this whole life seems to be a giant pyramid
reaching an apex in living against the odds of the
impossible, improbable and insufferable.
and those that are very well near done,
somehow have the ability to smile.
and so it must be, that while this life is on an incline of pain,
suffering, sin and sorrow;
there must be something greater hereafter.
a something that far outweighs,
and even negates the pain of the present.
taking the pain and wiping it away with good.
so let's be honest,
this isn't as good as it gets.

a-changing

life moves on
in its steady whirlwind,
keeping the past just close enough to remember -
- with echoes of eternity leading ahead.
we use numbers, schedules and fashion to tell time.
HE who sits on the Throne has chosen a different way.
His fingers paint colors resplendent with vivacity.
vitality traces every outline.
we turn a page.
He turns a season.
we grow a year older,
He works miracles which grow a man more than time.
the climax of our seasons is the absence of life.
resurrected by the miracle of Spring.
the return of the sun.
the beginning of all things new.
it's merciful, is it not,
that each year begins with brand new life.
that the old, dead things are left in another time.
it is only memories which are not so merciful.
time is still turning.
slowly, surely, fully -- it comes,
singing, dancing, shouting;
crying, mourning, sighing.
another page is a-turning,
what change do you see?

these are the questions

who are you?
who am i?
i look into the mirror but not long enough to catch a glimpse of who lives behind the eyes. and i figure, if i don't see it, no one else will either. if i keep busy, if i do things, if i'm productive no one but God will see the decline in things that matter more. i remember waiting up all night, frightened -- i didn't pray. it sounded like the rosary. the same words strung together by memory, uttered with insincere lips with a desire of equal out-put for in-put. my vending machine mentality, that if i put something in, some minuscule effort, God owes me. i'm glad He doesn't give equal out-put for what i've "put in".
another year is coming into focus. and more and more i am left wondering who i am. i am not defined by my grades, a degree, a vocation. not by my talents, failures, opportunities or social status. i am only a vapor, but i live like i'm set in stone. that is, there is so little time to truly live, and i spend so much of it being a selfish ass. so the question stands: who am i?

Therapy.

crash. burn. [repeat]
afraid. run. [repeat]
trust. hurt. [repeat]
hope. dashed. [repeat]
despair. pain. [repeat]

i don't want to repeat.
to run this cycle.
breaking away has no clear route.
freedom has no boundaries to start from.
must leave behind, push away all this.
start from the end.
push towards the beginning.
i'm tired of hoping in things that dissappoint.
tired of seeing glimpses of Jerusalem,
dashed when the fog clears.
weary of seeing what i have strained so long to see,
only to find i have made myself believe them to be.
i want to run.
i want to cry.
i want to hide-away and never come out.
i want to run to You.
i want You to hide me.
please make sense of all this broken-ness.