There are distances and calculations on my mind. A revolving mass of intangible obstacles orbits my head, till exhaustion brings me to that dreaming space. My thoughts are a wasteland of fiction.
As I sort through what's fantasy and memory, I wonder if those years are reconcilable to me.
Brother-King, what impossible feats do you have at your command to terraform such a planet into the kingdom of heaven? I'm thinking through an incomplete melody, the sound is still sweet, but the lyrics are lost on me. I'm listening for the words in between, but I feel incapable of any capacity of trust. I'm dying for the mystery inside the miracle, and I'm appalled that there's something in me that thinks its identification is elsewhere. This shouldn't hurt, should it? The stress in my back persists as I run home, I have short breaths and slow prayers. The anxiety seems chronic to our sub-species and also hereditary and to be transferred by bloodstream. I've thus contracted doubts and ghosts and lies. How can something so empty seem so romantic to me?
The Desert Emissary has been digging with me for months, and we've been pretty sure these caverns go deeper. He's been pushing me to build a temple, and I've been speaking of taking up sword and spear. My patience fled when the scramble started again, and I've felt pretty raw ever since. Still reverberating spurned memories, I can't believe that nostalgia is getting to me. Every illogical sentiment springs rage where romance once grew, I can't trust the possibilities.
My brother Emissary listened diligently as I tried to find the end of me. No magic could conceive the desire my blues seems to need. I'm not a travelling man at heart, I'll come back home to hide away in a couple of rooms. Sometimes I have to leave though, when I'm being beckoned by this hollow sober sickness. I know glittering spectres can't lead me across burnt bridges. I know self examination can't produce all the answers to the unsettled questions I carry. I guess I can't see everything.
I want to see everything
I wish to be the effective wordsmith that with each syllable manipulates fates and illuminates weighty truth. Rather, I'm more of a miner digging through hard stone, stuck on a hunch that the gold is just on the other side of the bedrock. If my soul is a cavern, I'm the one trying to burrow deeper into secret subterfuge. Any futile labor biased falsehood leaves wonder betrayed. I've left my wonder betrayed.
If the evidence that darkness has no substance is written on my hands then why are eyes so desperate to see it? I can't wrap my mind around it. I can't wrap my mind around it all.
And I'm wondering if wandering blind is the intention, if my life started out an exodus
Forty years in the desert till I stepped up for my fathers. Time burns before my bed, and my mouth waters while I watch. By the power of fantasy, our hearts are unaligned to reality, by the power of fantasy, our eyes turn from truth.
On many attempts I've sought out a change in intellectual process, but the fruit of knowledge has grown bitter in my mouth too many times. I've been stubbornly building a tower of babel and I've been making a lot of loveless noise. Should I shut my mouth, I hear the voice of God. In all my searching, I've been speaking through the subjects, but grief comes quickly to rambling men.
Thankfully,
The Entity of Weight comes to threshing floor to wrestle the punksaints and eternal cowboys. The mystery of his breath brings reasoning men to bow in worship. His words are sharper than any sword on my belt, and his eyes burn like lamps, bright with understanding and clarity. Humility comes over the room like a shockwave, we know our Messiah has returned.
Quiet and patient, I wait on the Master.
Like a child, I am received by the king. Like a blind man, Jesus gives me sight. I can't see everything, but the love of my life is within constant vision. I can lay down the mantle of scientist and pick up the yolk of this relationship. And my Brother-king, he is making a way for me, he is making a place for me to call my own. When mischief of this world burns away, I can come to him and receive my home. Sweet vision, lay my mind to rest, I make my home in your sacred heart.
My brother Emissary listened diligently as I tried to find the end of me. No magic could conceive the desire my blues seems to need. I'm not a travelling man at heart, I'll come back home to hide away in a couple of rooms. Sometimes I have to leave though, when I'm being beckoned by this hollow sober sickness. I know glittering spectres can't lead me across burnt bridges. I know self examination can't produce all the answers to the unsettled questions I carry. I guess I can't see everything.
I want to see everything
If the evidence that darkness has no substance is written on my hands then why are eyes so desperate to see it? I can't wrap my mind around it. I can't wrap my mind around it all.
And I'm wondering if wandering blind is the intention, if my life started out an exodus
Forty years in the desert till I stepped up for my fathers. Time burns before my bed, and my mouth waters while I watch. By the power of fantasy, our hearts are unaligned to reality, by the power of fantasy, our eyes turn from truth.
On many attempts I've sought out a change in intellectual process, but the fruit of knowledge has grown bitter in my mouth too many times. I've been stubbornly building a tower of babel and I've been making a lot of loveless noise. Should I shut my mouth, I hear the voice of God. In all my searching, I've been speaking through the subjects, but grief comes quickly to rambling men.
Thankfully,
The Entity of Weight comes to threshing floor to wrestle the punksaints and eternal cowboys. The mystery of his breath brings reasoning men to bow in worship. His words are sharper than any sword on my belt, and his eyes burn like lamps, bright with understanding and clarity. Humility comes over the room like a shockwave, we know our Messiah has returned.
Quiet and patient, I wait on the Master.
Like a child, I am received by the king. Like a blind man, Jesus gives me sight. I can't see everything, but the love of my life is within constant vision. I can lay down the mantle of scientist and pick up the yolk of this relationship. And my Brother-king, he is making a way for me, he is making a place for me to call my own. When mischief of this world burns away, I can come to him and receive my home. Sweet vision, lay my mind to rest, I make my home in your sacred heart.
