To live is to suffer,
To experience suffering,
To notice suffering,
Whether within or without.
A dark and twisted world,
The waxing of love, now cold.
Enmity against all,
Derived from some pain.
Regret,
Regret,
REGRET—
MOURNING.
Wake each morning
With a thorn at one's side,
No medicine to cure,
Just a cross to carry.
Lord, may Your sovereignty
Overweight human frailty,
Yet still, we ask for freedom.
Perhaps not freedom we seek,
But a choice, a desire
For life to go well—
Desires awry
Detour the planned course.
God helps? God doesn’t? I DEAL.
Or perhaps all is well.
Each choice the best,
A vigorous tremble of what comes next.
THIS, THAT, THE OTHER—
Cracks to fill,
Human existence, turmoil, debris.
Satiated...saturated...now emptied, extolled.
All toll is told, to toil.
I guess.
Bleak future?
Weak present?
Corrupted past?
Foundations ever present.
Pray God for what?
Not sure...not one is.
All humanity cries,
"PLEASE, GO WELL."
Folly.
Perhaps it is—
A getting used to,
A relaxation, a demonstration,
That passions convulse, throwing a fit.
Learn to curb, deter, and move on.
For what was wanted then
Is not forgotten;
What is now wanted
Will be forgotten.
A never-ending cycle?
Wild-ridden, well-run desire?
A fear unleashed.
A fist...all clenched?
I guess it is, as Kierkegaard says:
"Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom."
Comentarios