Tell me why Lord!
Why must I only
live this one life?
I am surrounded by choices.
Choices which require me
to be someone else.
Within the confines of this life
I am bursting to explode.
The walls squeeze in upon me.
They force to examine my choices
with each fleeting fantasy.

Life, an endless stream of decisions
which define you, trap you, imprison you.
Enslaved, we are prisoners of our own choosing.
Abadan all hope, there is no escape.
Only more decisions.
Some will tear down old bars;
others only replace them.
Shiny new ones,
that are free from the blood stains
we deposit by smashing our heads
into the cages we've built around ourselves.

When did it get so lonely in here?
I'm held here in this solitary confinement
of my own choosing.
And yet, I'm not willing to risk escape.
For there is only pain.
It is definite if I try to escape,
but it is unavoidable if I make no choice

Yet, I wonder! How did I get so lonely?
I'm surrounded by love,
and offer my own
as frequently as possible.
But love is like the oil
which helps the lantern burn bright;
we must frequently replenish it
or love's shine will die down
and become dark.

As a friend once told me,
we each must struggle
with our own humanity.
My struggle revolves around
the silence which engulfs me.
Blessed beyond most,
my loved ones leave me
in solitude.

With feelings and passions overflowing,
I turn to these words
to catch my emotions.
They are like the storm drains which
protect the city from flooding.
As the storms within my mind
fill up my sewers,
these words catch the deluge of
questions, doubts, and delusions
and carry them away to spill
into the ocean of creation.

For if these pages did not eagerly accept
these words, my life would be swamped.
The flood waters of my torment
would destroy everything I hold dear.

In these waters, I search for solutions.
I search for patterns, symmetry and balance.
I over analyze the theories
which swirl within my head.
Then when I stumble upon moments
of clarity, I turn to share them,
but no one is there.
Simply a blank page staring up at me,
and no matter how eloquent I can explain
my conclusions, I never receive solace.

Is this it, my Lord?
Am I sentenced to remain
within this one life?
Am I condemned to suffer
through this tornado of confusion,
so that I have to sift through
the debris which floats
through my mind?
And when I'm ready
to collapse from the search,
is the silence
meant to lead me to You?
If it were only that easy
to know, beyond
only a sense of belief,
it might make it
only slightly more hopeful
to endure the quiet.

Photo Courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons: Fraochsidhe