Saturday, September 1, 2012

Breathe




Breathe.
Thoughts are racing, darting, invading.
The day is waning and
fear
the icy cold, gripping sensation
is making its nightly visit.
I am worn,
feeling the day squandered
amidst thoughts of beauty, popularity, and future.
Me focused.

But I should not blind my eyes
And further weary my wrung out heart.

I desire to cast out, hurdle the syndrome of
artificial.
Everything worried, frightened, wild, unrealistic.
I desire to be
consumed.
Not with selfish ambitions
but
with God infused hope.


Reality  is knocking and
I am granted the peace of God
Because of will surrendering choice.

Thank You.



 © 2012 Deborah Hope Shining

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I definitely don't want this to be a monologue. What are your thoughts? Questions? Ideas?

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