The Tight Rope

I’m walking on a tight rope,

With feet that are bleeding.

My paralyzed mind is keeping my body unmoved.

No matter how tired I am or how much pain I’ve endured,

It doesn’t matter.

I remain in the same state, in the same position…

However, this is my decision.

And with the power of choice comes freedom, but also responsibility.

I’m not sure which makes me more uncomfortable.

I can blame and point a finger, yes…

But what good would that do?

You see, I look behind me and see the beginning of a rope that I twisted and tied myself…

But as I look ahead, I realize that there is another person hanging on to the end of this rope.

Enabling me, pressuring me, and guilting me into remaining on this tight rope of expectations,

Neediness…

Guilt-tripping me into the tornado of their own despair, uncertainty, negativity…

Boxing me in, leaving me to struggle to balance and thrive…

Placing thoughts of fear and shame,

Based off their own desire to control, manipulate, and keep me right where they want me.

They believe they hold the power,

Because this rope is in their hands.

But maybe I’ve let them control this power for much too long.

I have a choice.

I have power.

And I must take it back.

I will jump.

I will jump off of this tight rope into the unknown,

Leaving this broken relationship behind.

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Wires

Our world is conflicted.

The connection verse an illusion of connectiveness.

One is raw, the other a fake.

I sit still.

There is a whirlwind of people passing by.

I’m completely surrounded by beating hearts and breathing lungs, yet no one will notice me.

Yet I study the ones around me and notice them.

I notice a world that looks quite different than I remember a short time ago.

Its brighter, cleaner, and more sophisticated, yet something feels cold.

There aren’t many living people speaking at all.

They are looking down.

At machines.

Wires…cords…

Everywhere.

Mirroring the very essence of needing connection, through the desperate attempts of finding the empty outlet.

Like the device, we too need connection.

This hazy feeling of feeling connected through this make believe world leaves us confused, discouraged, jealous, and bitter.

It is distorted.

We are not truly being connected with others through this avenue.

We are being misinformed, with the assumptions we make and the comparisons we feed our minds.

Its harmful.

Unhealthy.

We long for true fellowship.

A spoken word directly…saying “I’ve been there too.”

A cycle that seems hopeless…

Yet it starts with the ones like me,

Just a look around the room,

To notice.

Wild With Green

I’m waiting to be taken back

To the place that’s wild with green.

With open hands, taking in the sun,

Contentment with simplicity.

The place where breathing comes easy,

And effort does not seem so hard,

Because admiring all that you’ve done and all that you are,

Will be enough.

I’ll stand with the trees,

Waiting for the souls of my feet to grow roots,

Connecting my being with yours.

Forever receiving the nutrients of true life.

Recieving without earning,

Giving without deserving,

The flower blooms,

And I know love.

Paralysis

Driving with eyes glaring on the pavement,

Without even knowing what’s passing by…

My thoughts are paralyzing,

I’m hoping I’m coming home to you tonight.

They say it’s a battle,

Between the heart and mind,

I believe the words that prove this,

As I fight to find the motivation to live alive.

I never understood your desire for smoking,

But right now it seems my mind is ill.

I’m wondering if a drag might help,

With racing thoughts that leave me still.

I want to tackle the world with a fire,

But I can’t seem to break a part the picture into smaller pieces,

Unrealistic expectations take over,

Discouragement slips right in.

I feel as if doing something good is not who I really am.

When I try to pray for clarity,

I hear the devil mock me with a grin,

Telling me that I am phoney.

Making me believe that God is irritated in who I’ve become.

Like my feeble voice has cried out too many times,

Over the same ole’ story,

The same sad struggle…

Like I’m not listening,

Or I’m at fault for this depressive cycle.

Am I?

Or is there another darkness at play that is sucking the joy right out of me?

I don’t want to blame and point the finger,

I want to grow;

I want to learn.

The Upside of Missing You

I brush my thumb back and forth across my forehead,

As if it were your hand,

In attempts to drift asleep calmly,

Instead of fretting over your wellbeing.

I miss you.

It aches, but I think of thoughts of your return…

Embracing you and spilling out my regret of taking for granted the importance of time.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,

When in reality it simply builds gratitude.

I now believe that is the upside to missing someone so dear.

It Was Never Meant For Me

It was never meant for me,

You see,

The knowledge of good and evil.

The thing that taunts and binds me,

In a circle of confusuion.

The Creator designed me for a purpose to be loved,

While allowing me to mirror Him, by loving in return.

Just like the creatures that roam the world, never having to be told their purpose…

I was meant to live so freely, unashamed and never dirty.

Free from doubts and uncertainty of who I am,

I was meant to walk along with God, not disconnected from his plans.

I long to enjoy life by simply existing and drawing breath,

While caring and tending to all the living things offered on this Earth.