My ache was proof that what I ached for existed.
Belief persisted.
But dreaming of a pillow doesn't comfort my head.
Rock is not a bed.
Hoping for healing does not persuade where I bled.
What am I risking by what I have shed?
Push past confident convictions.
Doubt, like grace, always listening.
Examine past wrestled restrictions.
Codified, accepted belief, cannon of grief,
You: the honored thief.
Parade in route, triumphant in appearance,
But the grand height didn't make the clearance.
No longer moving forward now,
Yes, Yes, look around.
What is it made of which is it made of which is made of which.
Pulling thread, tug at the stitch.
No lies, no deceit, just accepting too much that is incomplete.
Wander away from the parade, it is stopped, halted by it's own girth.
Wander away for a while.
Wander away.
Wander.
Wonder.
Wonder away.
Wonder away for a while.
Wonder why?
I wonder why.
I wonder, I.
Great the burden, the force of creation, the weight of the universe demands movement, life needs birth.
It presses down and we have to decide.
Not deciding is deciding.
It takes work to not engage.
It takes discipline to stay un-enraged.
It takes stamina to scream.
It takes stubborn-ness to dream.
It takes team.
But solitary, sometimes sedentary, faking nobility through immobility,
Makes for hostile tranquility.
Beyond my ability.
I can't continue on the parade.
I can't bring myself to tear it down.
I wonder away.
Tears of a clown.
Tears at this gown,
And at his bride in waiting.
In her head is all the debating:
Will he come or won't he, he loves me, he loves me not,
He loves me but he forgot, he loves, but love is hot.
And heavenly heat cannot be contained,
It's not for one bride but for the all,
Does that mean it is not personal?
Is it personal because I feel so small.
This battle for my soul has come to a draw.
Wander away, given up, but the question remains:
Are you real?
Are you really real?
What I have believed, is it what you proposed?
Did I mess it up and now I'm exposed?
What did you say and what did you promise?
And then what did I hear?
What did I want that made you not near?
I hoped for the wrong thing, Did I?
Did I believe in the parade?
The not quite charade, but the shadow displayed.
The savior dismayed.
Slayed.
Him with confidence,
Him the real fool.
Him who doubt.
Him more foolish, because he know the fool he is,
And wishes to be a different kind.
A different kind of blind.
A blind that doesn't know so much.
Blind that could never see,
A deep blind to what was meant to be.
Crawling, broken with no crutch.
Do you know of such?
Completeness is not to be, not from here to eternity.
Will completeness be made in him,
Or to the returning to the ground?
Who then will echo my sound?
I wander,
I wonder,
I am lost, by whom will I be found?
