the comfort of familiar places.
seasons pass.
somethings remain.
deliberate.
intentional. so much a part of everything. almost comforting. conditioned to believe the lesser evil - at least not stranded alone, outside, in the rain...
we sit in our cars waiting for the light to turn - scurry along our way - oblivious to the person a mere smile away. perhaps that guy standing in the median - sign in hand - alive, defined basely by living..
how often do we walk our routine of required agendas,
sanctimonious - succinctly anti-social;
preoccupied by choice, not confined by the humility of required remediation.
and of all the things conceived - paramount to feelings of being content; unrealized absolution; sins - unresolved...
circles - we travel.
always leading back to the comfort of familiar places -
big fish -
oh so little ponds.
until that day when the levee breaks - releases us from streams of complacency.
only then can we fully understand the small of where we've been -
comprehend the big of can,
the palpability of is -
and apropos of conceptually un-imagined intimacy -
the acquisition of sanctification more profound than any presumed salvation.
piously devout,
we stand upon our thrones of discern -
arrogantly contest status of faith -
embellish feelings of consternation - lost, or saved?
how sad - to join in lamentation of morality's demise,
all the while,
hiding stones of misconceived perception inconspicuously behind our backs...
“Be still, and know that I am God;[ Psalm 46:10 (NIV)]
somethings remain.
deliberate.
intentional. so much a part of everything. almost comforting. conditioned to believe the lesser evil - at least not stranded alone, outside, in the rain...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
the arrogance of rehearsed abandon...
of all things felt - perhaps the most complete; alone.we sit in our cars waiting for the light to turn - scurry along our way - oblivious to the person a mere smile away. perhaps that guy standing in the median - sign in hand - alive, defined basely by living..
how often do we walk our routine of required agendas,
sanctimonious - succinctly anti-social;
preoccupied by choice, not confined by the humility of required remediation.
and of all the things conceived - paramount to feelings of being content; unrealized absolution; sins - unresolved...
circles - we travel.
always leading back to the comfort of familiar places -
big fish -
oh so little ponds.
until that day when the levee breaks - releases us from streams of complacency.
only then can we fully understand the small of where we've been -
comprehend the big of can,
the palpability of is -
and apropos of conceptually un-imagined intimacy -
the acquisition of sanctification more profound than any presumed salvation.
piously devout,
we stand upon our thrones of discern -
arrogantly contest status of faith -
embellish feelings of consternation - lost, or saved?
how sad - to join in lamentation of morality's demise,
all the while,
hiding stones of misconceived perception inconspicuously behind our backs...
“Be still, and know that I am God;[ Psalm 46:10 (NIV)]
abandon
i fear
that i will never understand from what authority -
you disallow?
how ludicrous -
the signs you post -
inscribed with such callous - un-intent!
sad,
it must be -
unable to respond -
responsible to guilt -
imprisoned inside a tomb - of should...
and while your hope floats away,
upon a breeze of - nonchalance -
my - could -
remains captive -
bound by chains unseen -
victim to your abrupt,
yet rehearsed,
abandon!
