(no subject)
"There's a burning in my heart, everyday.
I come to you, I look to you and say,
"When will I become everything that you've intended me to be?"
I'm beating at my chest, everyday.
I run to you, I come to you and say
"When will I become everything that you've intended me to be?"
I am so tired, I am so beaten
From walking down the road of shattered dreams.
I am so lonely, I am so broken
Won't you come, won't you rescue me?
I am so tired, I am so tired, I am so tired, I am so tired
[I'll be the light inside of you and won't let go of you]
Come rescue me, won't you come, won't you come
I'm calling out your name..."
-New Kids in the Way, "This Could Be the Song That Will Change Your Heart"
-----------
I'm listening to sad music with all the lights on, and the blinds showing peekaboo's of outside's misery. It's absolutely dreadful outside. Dark enough to be sad, light enough to be hopeful. That awful, beautiful color--gray.
I was thinking earlier, of how gray I am. (Fickle, strangely patient, confused darling of a color.) I'm so tired of being alone, but I'm not. I like this growing, stretching that I'm doing--even when I hate it and complain. I'm weary of all this journeying, feeling like I'm losing hope that there's a destination to any of this desire and longing. But I still believe, even if I doubt and stumble and cry and scream.
I'm being pulled into this land of thoughts and beliefs of the oddest and scariest things. But I'm looking forward to it. I want to be there, more then here, more then this inbetween. I want to be black or white, not gray. But everything is muddled, and I'm listening to sad music with all the lights on, and inbetween these two trees outside, I see the faintest whisper of blue, and I don't know what it means.
I don't know what any of it means.
I'm so broken, but He is the Master Carpenter.
Rain
Jack Gilbert
Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
And yellow
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
Among all the people
Your absence
The people who are always
Not you.
I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
Now
Suddenly
This rain.
I come to you, I look to you and say,
"When will I become everything that you've intended me to be?"
I'm beating at my chest, everyday.
I run to you, I come to you and say
"When will I become everything that you've intended me to be?"
I am so tired, I am so beaten
From walking down the road of shattered dreams.
I am so lonely, I am so broken
Won't you come, won't you rescue me?
I am so tired, I am so tired, I am so tired, I am so tired
[I'll be the light inside of you and won't let go of you]
Come rescue me, won't you come, won't you come
I'm calling out your name..."
-New Kids in the Way, "This Could Be the Song That Will Change Your Heart"
-----------
I'm listening to sad music with all the lights on, and the blinds showing peekaboo's of outside's misery. It's absolutely dreadful outside. Dark enough to be sad, light enough to be hopeful. That awful, beautiful color--gray.
I was thinking earlier, of how gray I am. (Fickle, strangely patient, confused darling of a color.) I'm so tired of being alone, but I'm not. I like this growing, stretching that I'm doing--even when I hate it and complain. I'm weary of all this journeying, feeling like I'm losing hope that there's a destination to any of this desire and longing. But I still believe, even if I doubt and stumble and cry and scream.
I'm being pulled into this land of thoughts and beliefs of the oddest and scariest things. But I'm looking forward to it. I want to be there, more then here, more then this inbetween. I want to be black or white, not gray. But everything is muddled, and I'm listening to sad music with all the lights on, and inbetween these two trees outside, I see the faintest whisper of blue, and I don't know what it means.
I don't know what any of it means.
I'm so broken, but He is the Master Carpenter.
Rain
Jack Gilbert
Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
And yellow
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
Among all the people
Your absence
The people who are always
Not you.
I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
Now
Suddenly
This rain.