1. Two hands of mine trying...have not yet moulded perfection out of clay clumps. 20 years they've been throwing rocks at giants, moving bricks to make...steps from stumblers, reaping what i haven't sown and carving basins to hold...an overflowing gene pool. Progress? what is that? What have these hands done that...hasn't been before? and when arthritis steps in i shall come to understand that futility is shameless, times have changed, friends have moved on, families have died and all that's left...are silent hands.Then...why do i even try?
2. Awakening to ride the wave of morning's glory once more has given me one more chance to finally come to terms with reality of loneliness. And as dusk begins to bear its face, i am reminded that none but God can be trusted. Let not for Him, i must contend the nightly scourges of me. impossibility speaks when victory questions a battle between self and selflessness. I could blame Adam for my scars of imperfection, but he already bears the burden of Christ's death upon his shoulders and i am not unreasonable in judgement. Left alone, i have come to detest the very trust that my acquaintances have placed into my "cherish" basket. Then...why do i still trust?
3. Finally, there are three things that last: Faith, hope...and the third i cannot recall. After 20 years of existence, the third essence of life seems to have eluded me. I once had sought to find it within my world of science...fiddling with gadgets, chemical mixtures and toxic matter, washing my hands...feeling accomplished. Perhaps then it had slipped through my fingers...eluding my grasp, down into the gutters and drains. Or beneath a microscope, perhaps, eluding my keen eyes, hiding within cells and molecular fragments...beyond the limits of of my own vision. Swivelling madly around my senses, teasing them, beyond the scope of their wisdom. Pulling at my ear, but it could not be heard.Making my eyes tear, but it could not be seen.Or perhaps, then, i once tasted the beauty of its essence, but never stopped to appreciate.I have now settled my own differences of self and have resolved to be contented in its absence.So...if all things are futile and life alone is a dust-mite in a vacuum...Then why do i still love?
