Means and Ends

My heart weeps in loss of itself.

It cries, “what heart? Tell me where I can find one and I will most hastily replace myself.”

From the gallows it kicks it’s own stool, and drops to a sudden stop, hanging limp.

Why such a death? What agony and pain is worth this loss?

What means can justify this end?

The loss of another.

Another.

Another.

Why such a repetitive song? It is welcome in this house no longer yet it remains vigilant, ever taunting my soul. What ends am i not achieving? What flaws which means have?

For the ones I am most eager for You to save, seem the most hardened against You.

Deep within I understand this is not my flaw, nor Yours; yet still a flaw I see, unconcerned and happy free. It eats me from the inside deeper in.

I can’t understand the very thing that is shown to me every day, this blasé response to a most unfortunate circumstance I have yet to rid my loved ones of.

Time on this piece of rotted dust continues to be but a breath of eternity, but little see, and therefore remain to their bondage.

And some are happy this way.

And some believe they cannot escape, even with heaven’s keys a breath away.

But some…

They see the illustrious light at the end of the tunnel.

They see the Savior despite what would have been but a silhouette.

They hear Him call eagerly to them, begging them to love the way He does, to be wrapped in His arms of grace.

Yet they choose to stay wrapped in darkness and loneliness, a hideous grasp of a twisted happiness.

Happiness is fleeting.

Joy is eternal.

Their ignorance makes me angry, upset, confused. But what can I do?

Nothing.

If they are hardened is it supposed to be of no concern to me? Should I be content, then, to find a more accepting bystander?

I think not.

For this love shaped inside of me was made for a reason; I have these feelings for these specific people, and they are whom I invest in. With love comes trust. With trust comes truth. With truth comes Truth.

I restate what was previously stated; My heart has not died. But it will die, if it must, To bring to light, The Light.

Reviews

[Seshat Nidaba]

Strange, it reminded me of surrealistic verse married to Beat poetry. Who are your influences?

I enjoyed it, naturally.