COVID diaries - day unknown: application for license to disarm.
why bother - consideration. most often merely filler until what was being looked for, is found. i know. you disagree. all the while blinking away the evidence of suppose. isn't it funny, this concept - life? when caught up in the struggle we feel there has never been nor will ever be a more insurmountable mountain. thoughts of giving up cascade over the ledge of our believe. with little more than not enough, we allow option of doubt. it's no wonder we allow weak to overcome our strong. less intrusive. more accommodating. why risk the contradiction of rapids? we all know shallow water is much less intimidating. oh - look! your reflection. placid. serene. nearly transparent. hard to tell which is the real you...
this post - specific - intended. undeniably unobtrusive.
words that speak from a shrine of good intention.
words, that speak to humble - humility.
words that speak from a platform of compassion - across the silence of a room of doubt...
it seems - sometimes - the closer we become to who we are, the further away we move from our comfort zone. suddenly the definition - the boundaries - the allowed, becomes muted. uncertainty colored gray replaces the black and white contrast. is - becomes could and should gets consumed by can't. as we search for answers to questions we have not the courage to ask, our serenity disappears - lost in the chaos of despair...
this post -
these words -
surreptitiously culled from dissertations of faith - sermons of solidarity. and yet i wonder if you hear them through the discord of your lamentations.
prayers - i pray. application for license to disarm.
all the while - you remain isolated - entombed within a vault of disbelief. unable to see over walls built to disallow insurgence of attack - denigration of emotional stability - that in effect become
prisons of self-imposed indifference...
"... promising them freedom while they themselves are slaves of corruption; for by what a man is overcome, by this he is enslaved." [2 Peter 2:19]
bottom of down
to be the somebody you want me to be,
i'd have to let go of the nobody i am...
to find my way up from the bottom of down,
requires more rope -
a stronger knot...
you -
my friend -
are not aware -
your disassociation creates grey -
space unfilled -
water much too deep to wade -
too wide to swim -
and your strong hands,
will not build a bridge...
all alone is too much sad -
the absence of touch,
a feeling i wish i never had...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
this post - specific - intended. undeniably unobtrusive.
words that speak from a shrine of good intention.
words, that speak to humble - humility.
words that speak from a platform of compassion - across the silence of a room of doubt...
it seems - sometimes - the closer we become to who we are, the further away we move from our comfort zone. suddenly the definition - the boundaries - the allowed, becomes muted. uncertainty colored gray replaces the black and white contrast. is - becomes could and should gets consumed by can't. as we search for answers to questions we have not the courage to ask, our serenity disappears - lost in the chaos of despair...
this post -
these words -
surreptitiously culled from dissertations of faith - sermons of solidarity. and yet i wonder if you hear them through the discord of your lamentations.
prayers - i pray. application for license to disarm.
all the while - you remain isolated - entombed within a vault of disbelief. unable to see over walls built to disallow insurgence of attack - denigration of emotional stability - that in effect become
prisons of self-imposed indifference...
"... promising them freedom while they themselves are slaves of corruption; for by what a man is overcome, by this he is enslaved." [2 Peter 2:19]
bottom of down
to be the somebody you want me to be,
i'd have to let go of the nobody i am...
to find my way up from the bottom of down,
requires more rope -
a stronger knot...
you -
my friend -
are not aware -
your disassociation creates grey -
space unfilled -
water much too deep to wade -
too wide to swim -
and your strong hands,
will not build a bridge...
all alone is too much sad -
the absence of touch,
a feeling i wish i never had...
