Pursuit

For her you planted fields of blooming silk
And with your palette and brush,
You set that field ablaze.
She drives past.

For her you sculpted a body;
The purest pearl as a home for her soul
With dark wisps for eyelashes.
She beats and neglects it.

For her you took your fingertips
And gently lifted the sun
Into the glory of morning.
She turns on her mattress.

For her you created sound waves
That she might joy to hear and to sing
And perhaps return your affections thus.
She would rather weep.

For her you brought yourself to shame
By being slaughtered like cattle,
Letting your blood and tears intermingle.
She forgets to thank you.

Your tortured longing,
Your screams for her
To notice and accept your love
Go ignored.

But you found a servant,
A Jacob for a Rachel,
Who offered all he could to her
And lifted her chin to the heavens.

She turned to you and asked,
Can my Lord love me more than this?
So she bowed and sang
In fields of fiery silk.



God bless.

Overwhelmed

I had a thought this "morning." (I put "morning" in quotation mark because since starting night shift, it would seem that my mornings have become everyone else's afternoons). Anyway, this "morning" I had a thought. I suppose I will tell you what it was:

I recognize that I am young and hopefully have much life to live yet. However, I am slowly getting older and one of the things I find fascinating about getting older is that the more I live, the more pain I see, but also the more beauty I see.

Pain and beauty have been here all along, but in my experiences of them thus far, not only am I more exposed to both of them quantitatively as my life passes through time, I feel the weight of them more strongly.

After having this thought, it came to life in a song called "Mad World," originally by Tears for Fears, but Pandora decided to give me the Jasmine Thompson version. Although this song speaks of almost unspeakable pain, I found it to be profoundly beautiful.

A significant part of my life is devoted to music, but it's not every day I am overwhelmed by it, when I don't feel that I can bear the beauty of it. That was one of those aching moments. The beauty wasn't in the pain of the lyrics; the beauty was in the music in spite of the lyrics. Not that the two do not complement each other extraordinarily.

Anyway. This isn't much of a blog post and I don't really know how to end it. I wish I had the skills to put my thoughts to poetry in this instance but at the moment I find myself incapable. I feel that to put to poetry something that I found to be absolutely overwhelming, my poetry must also be overwhelming, and I'm afraid my writing skills aren't quite there yet. I'm sorry this is all you get. But still, can you relate to my sentiments?


God bless.