Monday, July 18, 2011


We sing together.
So what is this labor in my soul; this strain for a sound from the silence?
Always trying, always peering beyond an edge that possesses no boundary.

Funny, how performance makes a product from a passion.

I forget, sometimes, that the captivating demarcation in harmony is the second sound.
You make melody worth my time.
The very rhythm of existence resonates at the eternity it came from.
Sympathetic vibration; empathy in motion.  

Even in the tide of a moon that follows Your ordinance,
water ebbs and flows, hearts grow strong and break.
In you, life and movement, continuation and recompense.
Oh, just being...

to bind up the broken hearted; declare liberty to the captives...
my heart beats outside of my willing it.
You breathe me in, outside of my wanting it.
We, You, because You first us.
And oh how desperately I want it.

The ever-present adversity of habit: an indelible romance with the pain it wrought.

The hurt makes it real; makes you real.
The sting of a cigarette drag; the burn of the vodka; the prick of the needle...
the death of the cross.

For the joy set before You.
You breathed me in, because you had flesh to feel it.
You loved it. You loved me.
You loved.

Human like me. Human with me. Human for me.
I am a melody that You made worth the time.
Sing out loud. Your voice is sweet; Your face is lovely.
Sympathetic vibration, at the sound of your empathy.
At the sound of your symphony; the wind and waves provide the movements.
Rest, I will. Of my own free will.
I am simply and profoundly a melody.
And we sing together.

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