Kids, please do not try (too much) of this at home.
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I am not a measure of things, and yet I am master of myself
My identity is no more than shifting sand
What I loved, I disown some of them today,
Whatever I advocated, whatever I've identified
I once had beautiful reasons to justify them
And now they lay empty.
Empty just like the day they never existed.
No I am not getting mad, lest philosophical.
I am actually trying to forsake this disease of self serving epistemology
And yet when I have forsaken them, I feel purposeless.
Its like I was created to contemplate my life.
Yet when I do, I get anxious.
Anxious that I am not living my life.
Anxious that I am not loving my life.
How does one love his enemies?
How does one know where to be?
How can scripture bring about salvation
If it's subjected to the flawed precepts of man before it makes sense?
Where does a man move on from here-
This point where his will to life supersedes his fear of death?
Death to the things he holds dearly.
Religion, my religion- the only answer God Himself has given.
Love, the answer to everything, and yet the deepest mystery beyond any human wonder
If I were to compare with it, I've failed
And yet in it, I'm qualified.
Yes- my will is no more than a sham, unless I am within the will of God.
And I'll willingly forsake whatever I have for what is right.
Shifting Sand,
Feb-Aug 2010
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