I am here, truly now, it has been months of not knowing if I would ever be found but here I am (standing!) though grief still abounds I am here, not there which in this passionate suffering is humbly profound. Advertisements
Softly brittle paradoxically matched the dreariness of tears and the resplendency of laughter bring disjointed, harmonious delight.
Whirling, swirling, bleaching, erupting the last anguish cry of the corals remind of an eroding existence These disasters and depletions reveal a great need of restoration, yes, a form of recreation.
Terror has awakened mankind to evil it is always there (and has been) but here, afresh, we witness the horror and abject fear that we are all despicable each one, yes, me. “…as it is written: “None is righteous, no, not one…” Romans 3:10
“Save your own damn self” really, is that cogent or possibly true? Do you see how he, with no motive, murdered not least a few? When we don’t know what is wrong, how can we be sure that saving our “sovereign” self is not simply a foolish cure? “For by grace you have been saved…
Latent my soul exists in wait of sunshine to entice me out of my withered darkness, but the winter still comes, it is yet to arrive, so, despondent I remain, until spring beckons me to resurrect.
Yet though we kill and are killed, the gospel bleeds hope. it bursts forth in healing in the midst of our violence. The murdered God, killed by you, brings life in death; a paradox of love and despair given to satiate and silence our blood lust.
Sin’s insanity never ceases to surprise with no motive, we kill we murder for joy how creative humanity is in the destruction of others it is boundless and unending the imagination of the wicked.
Unwaveringly consistent each day and night it looms and dooms with sadistic delight The infection, the curse is so stark and malignant it’s chaotic and present no, more, mockingly persistent There’s a desire for clarity for an explanation of motive but the reality is this disease has intricately taken control of Each person; and that’s…
I’m very tired (of being sad) the fatigue is unbearable or maybe the energy required is? Exhaustion lulls me to sleep every morning, afternoon, evening, until, midnight arrives and I’m awake in darkness awake tired at the wrong parts of the day awake at the worst.
I hate this day not her, for dying (though, I did at one time) I hate how it came and our lives will never return to how it once was before.
Freudian slip I accidentally wrote that day today It’s embarrassing and frustrating to not be ok to be undone month after month the same day I know it will come! but I always forget how that day feels until it’s here.