the same old thoughts in the same old words.

These are my aberrant cryptic thoughts, slathered in pure ambiguity so as not to lie here naked, exposed in this desolate place. The raiment keeps me so warm and safe. This manner of expression that seems to equivocate thoughts is a way for me to convey the deepest most intricate parts of my soul that will never be spoken aloud. My speaking is shallow and to the point, lacking any depth as I impose these cruel restrictions on my mouth, continually gagging on the rusty old chain in my throat. I would like nothing more than for there to be perspicacity existing in all its forms, that exquisite clarity in my speech. I am forever searching for that singular word that will nail down these arcane thoughts, ideas and desires. Searching, but turning up with no such word. The chain declares that it has captivity over my mouth. Herein lies my lifelong struggle, this ineluctable truth, the desire to be known and yet wanting to bask in the "security" of being unknown. So I cry out to my Bridegroom, pleading for him to break these chains, to mollify my seeming relentless fears….. Lord, take these inclinations to be reticent away! Let not my speech be restrained! It is still.
And quiet in this place.
I am capable of lucidity.
Only through you Abba.

ineffable joy.

I eschew these crippling losses, invariably depriving myself of healing. I merely feign illumination that has ceased to appear. These unutterable longings in all their obscurity and vividness in my mind send me to an improverishment of the soul wherein langour overwhelms my being. Must I be stricken with this muteness, these blind eyes that fail to see the revelations that stand before me, these ears that discontinue their very function? However, the past, in all its brokenness, reminds me in some unfathomable way, all is well. My heart is not hardened, I am not cold and lacking any warmth, as I so often claim in my writings, quite the contrary, dear friend. I obturated the door from such things to permeate the inner depths of me, for that is not me and never will be. I am gentle. Soft hearted. Tender. I shutter when I hear these very words, they seem to evoke such images of weakness, frailty….. Then I remember the sweet delicacy of the human spirit. We are all weak, broken, sifting through the debris of our hurts. It's called humanness. ….I am forever destined for a treacherous war with words and coherence. Praise God that He can hear my inner groanings. He remains my oases in the arid desert, in Him I find peace, stillness, refreshment for my soul.
The macabre dance has ended.
The self privation has been struck down.
New life has begun.
I relinquish my fears to you, sweet Lord.

he mends my calloused heart.

These unnamed, immemorial feelings drive me to a state of complacency , they penetrate my dismantling heart which lacks any remnant of warmth. It is the pure embodiment of anesthesized discarded thought. These continuous bullets inserted renders me detached, elusive…firmly etched in my memory but yet lacking visibility all the same. The sheer weight of this squalor is seemingly unavoidable and will not subside. I infuse admirable qualities into my exterior but my interior is black, empty, a never ending abyss. The timidity I display is sheer cowardice….why must I be so fearful of that which God made me to be?
Restore me, Lord. Let not my heart be blinded by the darkness that inhabits my surroundings.
I put to death these things.
There is no life in them.
I peer out from the depths
And find life. Joy. Love.
I am alive.
I am redeemed.