I feel so out of place.
My shoes don't fit right.
Why do I feel like i am missing out?
And has food always tasted just a little under my expectations, or is that a new thing? My coffee never tastes just right.
The sunset is never as perfect as i think it should be. Too much pink, too much yellow.
Why do I feel like I can never get a full breathe?
Why do I feel as if the grass is greener on the other side?
My words are never right.
I get sad about the small things. The shower is either too hot or too cold. Luke warm hatred.
Why do I have a hard time finding absolute joy in things?
How come people still let me down?
Why does home not feel like home anymore?
Why do I look at the world and think of the word 'incomplete'?
Love from her or him just doesn't feel good enough sometimes.
How come my music does not fill the wholeness of my being?
Why does my heart desire more?
Because as I lay here I realize that I am a sparrow in a lake; that I am a perch in the air. I am like the snake in the snow or the bear in the desert. I am an ice cube sitting on a scorching New York sidewalk. I am not meant for this place. But that means that for now this sparrow will have to learn to swim for a time. We may not be meant for this place, but He will not let us die. One day the sparrow, the perch, the snake and the bear will find their way home. And that, my friends, will be a beautiful day.
No comments:
Post a Comment