Going Home, To Rest…
I have sometimes felt the tangible hand of God
On my shoulder.
Often ignoring the comfort which was offered
I’ve stumbled through the darkness, choosing pain
Instead as my companion
And wondering why my life has been forsaken.
The invitation has always
Been there – the choice to rise beyond the clouds of fatalism
To turn, dive and soar through the structural imposition,
Like the pure hearted crow
Who never allows its own beauty
To be misaligned by the visual perception of blackness.
And like the crow,
We are all descendants
Of the forcibly transplanted.
Continuum of the Body Community
Broken – we have choice to maintain the isolation
Or reconnect – once again to form Church.
I have come close to stepping away forever
And this has scared me.
To follow the face of the spiritually punch drunk
Or the face of the clear hearted… Which will it be?
I must remember my whys, and be still
Until my hows, guide my heart – placing it in God’s Palm.
I long for the Strength
To ensure I pursue this;
Otherwise the evolution of my soul is jeopardised
And this, I know… can easily come to be.
Audio Version (Podcast – MP3 / 95sec / 745kb)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1993