To a friend.
Fear my words are falling on deaf ears,
My heart is hurting to death here,
How many who claim to be about the Father’s business,
Are really on their own thing,
Treating him like a boss does their assistant?
How quick we are to forget that you are with us,
Because you’re out of sight we put you out of mind,
And we think we can hide ourselves in the process.
Acting as if my self is just that, mine.
But where does my self come from?
Where is it based?
From which Ocean does this seemingly bottomless pond spring?
Emotions, thoughts, instincts all swirl beneath
far deeper than I can hold my breath to explore.
Deeper and darker, deeper and darker.
But this vessel is hopeless to remain if unanchored when the tides rise,
Tossed and turned to eventually be wreckage
Washed up on some foreign shore.
I am to live and move and have my being,
But earthed in the source and ground of existence Himself.
Without this tie, the kite not only does not fly but lies lifeless on the grass.
I turn. I turn.
27 Sep 2014