I find myself growing more and more contemplative as the years pass.
I think its generally a good thing,
because being in contemplation forces you to look deep within.
And somehow, rattle up all those old skeletons in hidden closets
(God knows, I have many, many of those).
Outward, I guess, I am a picture of joy, bliss, perfect contentment,
but like many... I am broken, imperfect.
I used to think it was difficult to be broken.
In the whispers of the late night,
I would silently question the Universe, 'Why, why is it like this?'
... even while knowing very well that everybody has their own struggle, own yellow brick road journey to take.
And then I would drift off to sleep,
in the land where I would meet the maker in pockets of subconsciousness,
usually awakening in the mornings with a sense of rejuvenation
(sleep does wonders like that),
... feeling ready to overcome the day.
Except the day isn't always overcome,
rather... it overcomes me,
with all the elements of life.
We all live the dream of the Great Dreamer.
Atleast, I am.
Im done being angry.
I am done.
I was the greatest oxymoron dwelling on my past glory,
collectively reflecting in a state of confusion that verbalizes the pain,
this desire to become satiated in comforted pleasure.
In the silence,
as I understand that my future is being unfold one at a time,
... I found peace.
Peace in knowing that I've put my hopes and dreams in the right hands.
I believe in Jesus and that He's watching over us.
Discounting the atrocities conducted in His name,
... counting the beauty of the inspired works made in His name.
... that in the process of destruction,
in the flames of demolition,
there is the hope of rebirth,
that the phoenix will arise,
and then, we can start over.
Dont we all want peace on earth after all?
Contemplation, it keeps me intact.
It reminds me, that this life..
.... is worth it.
So, I will keep the dream.
Vibrant and alive.
:)
I think its generally a good thing,
because being in contemplation forces you to look deep within.
And somehow, rattle up all those old skeletons in hidden closets
(God knows, I have many, many of those).
Outward, I guess, I am a picture of joy, bliss, perfect contentment,
but like many... I am broken, imperfect.
I used to think it was difficult to be broken.
In the whispers of the late night,
I would silently question the Universe, 'Why, why is it like this?'
... even while knowing very well that everybody has their own struggle, own yellow brick road journey to take.
And then I would drift off to sleep,
in the land where I would meet the maker in pockets of subconsciousness,
usually awakening in the mornings with a sense of rejuvenation
(sleep does wonders like that),
... feeling ready to overcome the day.
Except the day isn't always overcome,
rather... it overcomes me,
with all the elements of life.
We all live the dream of the Great Dreamer.
Atleast, I am.
Im done being angry.
I am done.
I was the greatest oxymoron dwelling on my past glory,
collectively reflecting in a state of confusion that verbalizes the pain,
this desire to become satiated in comforted pleasure.
In the silence,
as I understand that my future is being unfold one at a time,
... I found peace.
Peace in knowing that I've put my hopes and dreams in the right hands.
I believe in Jesus and that He's watching over us.
Discounting the atrocities conducted in His name,
... counting the beauty of the inspired works made in His name.
... that in the process of destruction,
in the flames of demolition,
there is the hope of rebirth,
that the phoenix will arise,
and then, we can start over.
Dont we all want peace on earth after all?
Contemplation, it keeps me intact.
It reminds me, that this life..
.... is worth it.
So, I will keep the dream.
Vibrant and alive.
:)
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