breathing in.

I'm not that far from reality.

One breath in;
cold air against tired and tattered lungs

Even this handwriting is tired...
disorganized, contrived.

Whether they understand me or not,
I am living for what is real for now,
not then..

not them.

There always seems to be a gentle discontent in the voice of my words.



But I have learned that the pain perceived is, more often than not,
a hidden joy.

For the joy set before Him...

Vision gives pain purpose.
Purpose gives pain vision.

Pain gives purpose perspective.

The qualifier of passion..
hardship takes the helm at the open seas of live yet lived.

And we, her passengers, become either the heroes of the storm
or the cowards of her wreckage.

Well, I for one, do not plan to go down with your ship.

Call me the self-absorbed one.
Yes, I took the life boat.
Yes, I took the life vest.

Yes. I preserved my life.

I have eyes beyond your taunting influence.

Justice beyond your lofty judgements.

Because I know.

I have tasted of the age to come,
the sweetness of a woman's courage,
the hurricane of her discontent...

I have seen the "worth it" of the worthless.

One breath in...
    starlit air in my punctured, heaving lungs.

I hurt for real.
Feel the pain of sincerity...

and consider these things worth it.

I'm not that far from reality.

toneed.

Maintenance.
Silent keeping of a heart that often forgets to keep beating.

But what was once a 2nd nature seems to have deteriorated in time...

obligation steals away the breaths you're supposed to take.

Here, the gently unsettled place between sleep and awake,
here is where there is recollection of what it is to need.

I was once a brave soul,
standing tall in the face of giants,
slaying them with my sling full of seasoned words and vain repetitions.

Oh, the vanity of words...
the self-importance of knowledge.

I was once a swollen chest,
a proudly pulsing rhythm in a cavernous hull...

resonating like it was full.

Hiding like it was empty.

And so it was.  And so I see.
That what was once a second nature was in truth a learned behavior.

I am a lung that needs the air.
We have hearts that beat without our permission,
without our diligence.

There is no second nature, but only surely what is natural.

I have nothing but to be loved,
and therein be brought to life.

And still I maintain.
Try my hand at machines I don't understand.
Aim to change,
and fall just short of indifference.

Around again, to the same conclusions,
and melodies dancing in my head.

Here between sleep and awake,
gently unsettled.

I need You.
This is what it is to need.