I sit in this awareness, trying hard to see a blank canvas;
stressing my heart’s biases to melt away into a quiet place;
squeezing this ever sense of urgency to cool its heels and breathe
through its impulses to make everything better.
It will all be what it will all be… and yet,
I still inhale need and exhale salvation; as if
my only salvation is to be needed.
God loves me
because I am the child who makes him laugh the hardest.
At times, His humored tears touch my spirit, letting me know
I have put on an excellent show, and now it’s time to resign.
But these veins are ambitious; harboring
this blood infused with endless purpose; embodied in
this being of unsettled life.
A state of rest is foreign and intrusive to my design.
What does it mean to not do, say, think, feel…
impose my essence into the universal echo
at all times?
This may be my only existence in this reality.
Therefore, in good conscience, I can never just be.