I’m told he’s been sold,
Lost his soul to the cold.
He wishes he could be saved,
Find his place and be graced.
I’m told he’s in pain,
Cut in twain and set afloat.
Lost his gains playing games,
Not knowing he was just a pawn on the board.
I’m told he’s tired,
Dares not rest, but doesn’t know why.
There’s a void that must be filled, but with what?
So he experiments, with things whose value he can’t ascertain.
I’m told he’s confused,
Tempted to cast himself into ablivion,
Because he has began to doubt his senses,
Unimpressed by his reasons…somewhere deep down he can’t reach.
I’m told he’s waiting,
For a word, a touch…anything.
He’s been searching, half blind and lame,
In a maze, chasing his own tail, not knowing his claim.
I’m told he won’t listen
To reason, or lies, or truth –
“Frankly, it’s hard to really tell ’em apart;
Not with this limit on my mind and this hole in my heart”.
But, I’ve been told enough,
So I set out to search, write, and speak;
To scatter abroad a word, a seed, something, in faith;
Some good news, to jar, to bruise, to fill, to heal.
I’ve heard enough, maybe too much:
Enough to lose sleep and comfort;
Enough to be burdened to breaking, burning to cinders;
Enough to be moved, to stepping to that place I never wished to be,
‘Cos the thought that ‘I’ ‘need’ to be ‘there’,
Fills me with such profound sadness.
But the hope that even ‘I’, do bear being ‘there’,
Instills such inexpressible joy.