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The same art that awoke me still quenches me today.
I am replenished of it every day.
Hungry and yet satisfied. Simultaneously.
Inspired.
Questions in my head. No answers.
Perhaps, today there will be answers.
Perhaps today there will be substance to my dribble.
My mindspace drool.
Like a broken faucet unable to be mended my mind pours out incoherent,
unanswerable questions in a quest for unattainable artistry incomparable to
that which inspires its uncontrollable release of nothing and
everything.
Inspired.
Is directionless inspiration worthy of anything?
Don’t look.
You will see my flaws. My soul. My secrets.
No one can know.
Inspired- What is it to love?
How do you capture passion and vulnerability in the space of safety that is trust?
I want to bottle it for myself and never let it go. I wouldn’t sell to the highest bidder.
Perhaps that is why we marry.
To hold onto that precious good. It’s so good.
To have and to hold. We hope. Until the end of our days. For we could never bear to lose it any sooner.
We bargain with God- “Take me before you ever dare make me surrender that which gives me so much indescribable joy, wonder, peace and satisfaction.”
Perhaps it is not a bargain at all.
Perhaps He knows the value of this priceless wonder in our world.
He knows how invaluable it truly is and He never wishes us to be parted from it for He knows that which we paid for it.
He knows it would kill us to be parted- divorced from this bottled treasure.
Our souls devoured.
Passion burns until it turns to ash.
No more.
He knows the wages of this loss.
This period of mourning into which we would enter.
Knowing this, He graciously and lovingly designed for us to only be separated from our preciousness at the precise moment in which He is able to thoroughly fulfill the indescribable thirst that is left in its absence.
He will fill the void that remains. We are parted from our sweet berry, ripened and picked at the opportune moment for our fleshly satisfaction only in order to be satisfied by His eternal juice.
A God-shaped hole.
Temporarily and tolerably filled by our bottled love but only just enough to instill within our souls the hope needed to persevere through this world- now fully and wholly plugged by His water.
Bargaining with God is a waste of precious time- another gift lovingly given with no expectation of return on investment.
A waste of time.
He always wins.
Negotiation is non-negotiably futile.
Another inspired question…
Perhaps not.
Perhaps that is all for today. Perhaps the faucet is temporarily secured. Secure in its satisfaction with this directionless conversation which has somehow lead me to exactly where I never imagined I would end up.
Sometimes getting lost is the first step toward being found.
Traveling through the desert of my mind and I found a drop of life.
Thank You.
Rather than mindless dribble, I find myself a waterfall of gratitude and awe.
Always in awe of You.
Perhaps I will stop.
Unless You have more to say.
Perhaps this is all that the ink in my pen, and my bones which hold it, can handle for today.
Is there more to be said?
I will wait.
I will listen.
Listen to hear You.
Not to respond.
My pen will respond in kind as though You reached down from your throne to speak through the smallest of instruments in the most unworthy of hands to pen this word.
That word.
All of the words ever spoken, transcribed.
I will be Your vessel. If You wish it.
Use me.
Always.
Please don’t ever tire of me.
I will be useless when You do.
I never wish to be parted from You even if I don’t always show it.
But You know my heart. My shame. My guilt. My potential.
All of my imperfections perfectly crafted in Your infallible image.
Oh. This is what it is to be loved.
This pen- the empty vessel.
This paper- the empty capsule through which I will bottle
And capture the passion of my heart,
And the vulnerability of my soul,
In this anonymous, and yet completely transparent,
Space of trust embedded in our conversation.
Again, my mindspace sink pours out in gratitude.
To know You.
To be closer to knowing the unknowable.
Unfathomable.
And yet You know me so well.
The desires of my fractured, broken, lonely, and yet never-more-contented heart.
I am full in the pieces of my brokenness.
Is this the mindscape of David?
I never wish to escape or be deported.
Before, I sang of the emptiness I felt in the sun and my desperate call for rain so that my faucet would once again leak- cry, pour out a mess of messy tap water thoughts- messy desires, messy conclusions.
I spoke of leadless pencils leading me to points of no return on endless pointless journeys through the snowy mountains and dried, cracked earth of my mindscape.
I realize now, I do not yearn for rain.
I don’t desire the sun.
Neither will do.
Neither do what You do in this partly-cloudy mindscape. My escape.
Leading my blind eyes to the greatest of views both imagined and seen.
Lose myself in my mind.
Find myself in my spirit.
Arrive to You.
My navigator.
Lead me.
I will follow.
With trembling legs and uncertain hands.
But I will follow.
I will stumble on my doubts.
I will fall in my failures.
But You will
patiently,
Lovingly,
Graciously,
Stoop to me in my inadequacies and encourage my earthly soul.
Encourage my mind to escape through this pen.
My hands cramping as they bend to Your will.
The sweetest pain.
The most welcome soreness.
Perhaps one day, after enough of our conversations are transcribed into this notebook which could never be large enough to hold all the secrets You reveal to me, my hand will no longer ache to transcribe all You have shown me.
I hope that day never comes.
And if this notebook is the only place in which I can ever record my genuine encounters with You, I pray that I never reach the end of its pages.
Please never allow this capsule to fill.
For that will be the end of Your love for me and I will be
Useless.
Lifeless.
Divorced from You.
I could never stand to mourn such a loss.
I’ve staged that grief before.
I lost my soul.
My spirit.
My love.
All my wonderful You-given gifts and even then, I was not alone.
But I was as close to the abysmal nothingness of Your
absence as I ever wish to be and I never wish to go back to
that dreary, wretched vacation home again.
Have You more to say?
Have I had enough?
I will wait.
I will listen.
I will not bargain or negotiate.
Your bestowal of sustenance is ever satisfactory for the hunger of my soul if even just a drop. A morsel. A crumb is what You wish to give.
Until next time when You call my bones
to hold this pen
to ink out an inadequate depiction of Your truth.
I will wait.
I will satisfy the hunger of my soul with that which You have already provided, and I will hunger no more until You call me to.
Like a Pavlovian dog responding in kind to the bell which rings within me to signal my conditioned salivation- an uncontrolled yearning for You.
You who inspires me.
I apologize for ever confusing You for the art which You instilled in my brethren
Although, the pieces of You which are evidenced within the talents of the
artists which awoke my inspiration days ago are so beautiful.
If only a pale comparison to that which you could fashion.
I cannot wait to see Your galleries.
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Wow... absolutely beautiful. Just wow.
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