I know where I’m going

You thought you were moving on but suddenly you feel like you’re the one left behind, and never will have time to fill the gaps that are here to stay, never get a chance to say what you want to say.

Thousands of twenty-four hours have passed away the way tides swell and retire; not here to stay, not here to stay, they seem to murmur to those who would listen.
And the darkness descends like curtains after a play; only the anticipated thunderous applause is exchanged for an ear-splitting silence.

Dead. Gone.

Nothing remains the same.

And you. You are the one left behind.

Those you knew and loved, speedily slip away from you like gentle ghostly mist floating into oblivion on a wintry day; they’re leaving, all of them and you are stupidly clinging to the pitiful little trinkets you keep that reminds you of them to find a solace for yourself.

Your shrivelled brain, filled with complicated innumerable theories and age old proven formulas, yet strangled with some dust framed memories of some previously loved pretty muse but you were moving on.

Or were you?

Weaving in and out of an insanely endless cyclical routine, it’s ridiculously easy to forget what you’re doing and why you’re doing what you’re doing.

The lines, where are the lines, you scream, as an agony deep in your soul firms its unmerciful enslaving grasp around your neck, stifling your breath and oh, it hurts.
Where are the lines that should you cross you would be deemed extreme. If only they were drawn with lead and graphite and washed with a coat of the blackest ink, and you would never cross that repulsive line.

You don’t want to be defined as extreme, do you?

And the whole mocking world now includes the ones who claim to walk the same walk with you, and they make you the championing fool. They seem to take a cruel delight in blurring all the lines for you with open, high, intellectual ‘non-judgmental’ talk, crafted with fake innocence to belittle you, and make you feel small and basically a nothing. The fact is, in the end, they make you think that they’re better than you.

If there ever was a living paradoxical flummox that would drive them, drive them up the wall, drive them crazy, they point at you and you’re that one.

Here I stand, the most miserable forgetful creature.
How dreadful to claim weakness as brother to my living and dishonor the Victory that reigns in me.

Redeeming Love called me from darkness into Light, and yet selfish pride and waves of bitterness engulfs me, filling me from the very depths of my chest, then over spilling and eagerly consuming, threatening to maliciously devour my entire being, to take me captive.

I look in the mirror and yes, I see how wretched I am.

I realize I don’t deserve the Lord’s lovingkindness, but He is so kind to me.
I thank and praise Him for loving me even when I rejected and despised His longsuffering towards me.

He is so, so good to me.

I am compelled by Love Himself and I must follow Him.

1 Peter 2:9-10 KJV
But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light: Which in time past were not a people, but are now the people of God: which had not obtained mercy, but now have obtained mercy.

Thursday Thoughts: All the Light I cannot see.

The sun is always shining. But you are the one that decides how bright it shines.

It’s been night

For as long as I can remember

And i have forgotten

All the light

I cannot see.
.

Fading stars

Barely faking a glittery farce

Black dark night

I’ve lost my sight.
.

How long will the night last?

I pray the day comes fast

To show me

All the light

I cannot see.
.

And if the darkness

Won’t seem to pass

I pray to God

To teach me

To trust

In all the Light

I cannot see.

“Be still, my soul, the waves and winds still know, the Voice that ruled them while He dwelt below.”