My room is dark and quiet. Garage voice is playing through the speakers of my computer. I should be outside enjoying the weather and God's creation but my eyelids are heavy and my pillow beckons me. I write now because my mind is sluggish yet unsettled and that's always a sign that something needs to be said. The wires in my brain are crossed and the connection is fuzzy. I don't know whether to think about God's intimate nature, the fact that He is a friend, why sometimes I don't feel Him, or why when I want to be lead I don't feel like He is leading. The little man in my brain is jumping from one area to the next and trying to write down all my thoughts but their going so fast all he has so far are sentence fragments. Which we all know are not good.
I don't think I have anything to say right now. Or maybe it's just I have too much but none of it will come out clearly. I'll try to wade through the dark and murky waters of my mind. In the mean time I'll show whoever reads this, a bad poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago about the mind.
A maze, a labyrinth filled with snakes. Burrs line the floor that must be picked up. Hands are pricked, heels are bitten. Hours spent, none of the time lost. Streams of light are at the end. The closer we are to it, the farther we've been. Your destiny is never to reach it, your journey is to always begin.
You dig in the dirt with your calloused hands. A pearl is found under the time worn sands. Rare - the find happens once in a lifetime. Half the sky is night, half is filled with light. You forget which is which. The black man looks white. There is a sweet kiss upon your cheek but it doesn't feel right. The water is murky the depth is deep. I can't breath, I'm drowning beneath questioning heaps.
That sounds kind of depressing. It's not meant to be. But like I said it's bad poetry. I hope everyone is having a wonderful Sabbath. God is good. All the time God is good.