I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all
is vanity and vexation of
spirit. Ecclesiastes 1:14
in the final analysis,
you don’t find the
words
they find you,
gliding in like geese
landing
on a remote mountain lake,
touching down with a
splash at
3 in the morning,
you either take the
shot or
lose them forever;
by morning they will be gone;
this ocean stretches endlessly
before me,
a sea of words,
mountains of
darkness,
places visited,
journeys taken,
thoughts hidden
within
the magnitude,
lost inside the
enormity,
none of it matters
now,
inside there’s more,
but the will and
desire are gone;
a new kind of sadness
overcomes my soul,
final, complete,
without return,
I have gone so far,
yet I have gone
nowhere;
all the atrocity,
all the inequity,
all the inequality,
all the injustice,
swept under the carpet,
made to go away,
pretending it never happened;
you reap what you
sow;
unbroken,
uninspired,
unrepentant,
destined to repeat the lies,
your hour is here,
your time has come;
this flesh is born,
this flesh dies,
crumbling back into the dust
from whence it came,
your greatness,
your accomplishments,
your desires,
your good works,
just a fading footnote,
eventually forgotten,
in the end nothing but
vanity and vexation;
the mountains shine like jewels
in the morning sun,
they too fade away,
without You there is nothing.
.
.
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