Transitions
Imminent transitions everywhere I turn. There's one there, there, there, there, and yes, even there.
The reasons for my transiting are the very same reasons I don't want to transit.
Changes everywhere I turn. People change, relationships change, responses change, feelings change, settings change, places change, we change.
It is at a time like this when everything turns white and nothing is consistent anymore except God. I cannot depend on anything, or anyone else. Nothing is as reliable as He is.
Everything escapes my attention, like a piece of cloth flung off a cliff, and then disappearing into oblivion. Because nothing matters anymore. Nothing can matter anymore, when everything around you keeps turning, twisting, contorting itself into unfamiliar shapes, making strange sounds. Like a black hole, they beckon me to join them, to join in their frivolous reverie. But I will not turn to the things offered by this temporal world. I will not turn to anything other than my God.
Transitions. I am still, on a solitary platform just wide enough for me to stand on, thousands of feet above the ground, and a million things are moving around and through me. They rush past my head, and I feel the bursts of wind through my hair, and then vindur í hárinu*, on that other mountain-high platform you stand. I sway forward, backwards, side to side, according to the whim of these winds. But I do not sway violently enough to fall off, because my God is in me, and has provided me with a divine stability in my disposition. Transitions all around, everything changes, but with my God, I will stand and continue standing. These winds are not enemies, they are there by God's will. But if I choose to turn my eyes and trace their movements with my eyes, instead of holding on with a tenacious conviction in the strength of God, I could lose balance and fall. People fall off their platforms, but I will not be distracted, lest my eyes follow their descent, and my spirit likewise.
...
I don't mind losing it all if I still have You, because I've already lost it all when I tossed it off that cliff. But I kept a tiny piece of it with me, and left on what was tossed a mark of my own - my involvement in its existence - so we'd each have exchanged a part of ourselves with the other. We leave a little bit of ourselves everywhere we go. And take in a little bit of everywhere we go. You have left something in me that can never be lost or forgotten, and can never decay.
I sure hope what I left in You (you) will never be lost or forgotten, and will never decay.
Everything changes. But You never change.
-
*'the wind is in your hair' in Icelandic.
The reasons for my transiting are the very same reasons I don't want to transit.
Changes everywhere I turn. People change, relationships change, responses change, feelings change, settings change, places change, we change.
It is at a time like this when everything turns white and nothing is consistent anymore except God. I cannot depend on anything, or anyone else. Nothing is as reliable as He is.
Everything escapes my attention, like a piece of cloth flung off a cliff, and then disappearing into oblivion. Because nothing matters anymore. Nothing can matter anymore, when everything around you keeps turning, twisting, contorting itself into unfamiliar shapes, making strange sounds. Like a black hole, they beckon me to join them, to join in their frivolous reverie. But I will not turn to the things offered by this temporal world. I will not turn to anything other than my God.
Transitions. I am still, on a solitary platform just wide enough for me to stand on, thousands of feet above the ground, and a million things are moving around and through me. They rush past my head, and I feel the bursts of wind through my hair, and then vindur í hárinu*, on that other mountain-high platform you stand. I sway forward, backwards, side to side, according to the whim of these winds. But I do not sway violently enough to fall off, because my God is in me, and has provided me with a divine stability in my disposition. Transitions all around, everything changes, but with my God, I will stand and continue standing. These winds are not enemies, they are there by God's will. But if I choose to turn my eyes and trace their movements with my eyes, instead of holding on with a tenacious conviction in the strength of God, I could lose balance and fall. People fall off their platforms, but I will not be distracted, lest my eyes follow their descent, and my spirit likewise.
...
I don't mind losing it all if I still have You, because I've already lost it all when I tossed it off that cliff. But I kept a tiny piece of it with me, and left on what was tossed a mark of my own - my involvement in its existence - so we'd each have exchanged a part of ourselves with the other. We leave a little bit of ourselves everywhere we go. And take in a little bit of everywhere we go. You have left something in me that can never be lost or forgotten, and can never decay.
I sure hope what I left in You (you) will never be lost or forgotten, and will never decay.
Everything changes. But You never change.
-
*'the wind is in your hair' in Icelandic.