On Wings Like Eagles.

You, said that you

Only did what Father asked of you. 

And you, you knew it wouldn't do,

To give sympathy when clarity was due. 

You took their hungry hearts like you take mine,

You lifted up their eyes to give them life. 

When you spread out your arms to the sky, 

Your blood was shed so I would not run dry,

Jesus, your shoulders are stronger than mine,

And I know you never called me to try

To carry the world, when that's why you died. 

Now I, I know I was made,

To spread your glory and to praise your name.

Yet I, I try to take your place,

Try to make my own decisions

And be other's saving grace. 

But you lead me and you purify my heart, 

Through the fire and the flame I see

How glorious you are. 

When you spread out your arms to the sky

Your blood was shed so I would not run dry

Jesus, your shoulders are stronger than mine

And I know you never called me to try

To carry this world, when that's why you died. 

For your love, Oh Father your love,

It's your love, Oh Lord, your unfailing love...

You.

There will be nothing gracious about this. Perhaps it is the want of a more extravagant title that belays the simple facts of what's going to come through my fingers from my hands from my head. No, no, it's not elusive poetry that's needed, nor fragmented phrases or elegant prose, but a sort of "beautiful simplicity" that will convey what needs to be said, which by far makes it the hardest to read because of the reader's own thrown-in ambiguity. 

You see, you're the problem and you don't know it. 

Or perhaps I'm the problem and I made you a part of it. I'm not sure. 

2nd Timothy 2:4 (AKJV)

"No man that wars entangles himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who has chosen him to be a soldier."

It is no longer flattering to be praised. It is no longer a joyful thing to offer one's shoulders for a year's walk across the desert. It's a strenuous haul and one that I do not feel I am prepared nor called to make. Because this hall echoes and I hear many voices call from the end, but His voice is not among them and so I pause before my journey takes me another step.  And I detect a presence of slight animosity towards you, for unconsciously breathing too hotly into my ear, leaving my head spinning because your words are broken and tormented and I can do nothing but let them sift through my tissues, needles into tissue paper. My hands are tied and I am only allowed to watch you squirm from a distance and I dissolve but you won't pull yourself from my sight, but yell and I try to close my eyes and yet simultaneously free myself to save you. Which, of course, is impossible. But if I Quit.... what if I Quit? Then who will be there to listen and to save you?

God. 

Oh, but I do love to play the role. I call the role and whenever someone shows up missing I freak. It's easy to wrap yourself in so much that you can't see what's important. And then there is speaking. Speaking to you, speaking to them. One individual and a group. But both are carefully scripted and yet neither turn out how I plan, which I suppose was planned before I thought of my own words, for He has determined how these roles play out. We all have roles to play and scripts to prepare; it's ironic that I'm reading Hamlet in class. Perhaps you can tell I'm punning on the word role, but I caution you, don't think too logically, think human. 

Goodness, how everything is interconnected! Role play, chain reactions, chemistry, body chemistry, human anatomy, human psych, human nature, human. 

Yeah, we're human. But humanism is a poor sport to play on a spiritual playing field. It's the most unscripted play ever written. 

The Answer to the Question: Why?

This is for the heart that

Functioned like the laundromat, 

Took in all their dirty laundry

Yet no one gave it a cent.  

This one's for the girl who

Put her heart out to the world,

Who was so willing to lend,

But others treated her as rent. 

For you who understand these words,

This anthem is for you. 

This is for you, 

A broken body and a crown,

And the same things that bring you down

Brought me down too. 

This is for you, 

I'll trade my life for yours right now

My open arms will hold you close

I am for you. 

This one's for the many lost and 

Hurting in the crowd,

Who, when they come to my house,

Play the fool and act out loud.

This is for the girl who's mirror

Never made her thin enough

To satisfy her lust for love,

No boney frame ever covered it up. 

This is for you,

A broken body and a crown,

And the same things that bring you down

Brought me down too. 

This is for you

I'll trade my life for yours right now,

If you'd let me reach you somehow

I'd hold you close,

I am for you. 

This is for the world that never

Understood my love,

Never called upon my name

Was always looking for the rub. 

This is for the girl who turned

And walked the other way,

Who cried her tears and left the path,

For it all won't be in vain.