I am not but a fool, in a world filled with others like me. I stand at the gate, waiting to be let in, yet I lie in wait for the wrong reasons.
Foolishness is my poison, but also my delight. Forgetfulness, what a bitter thing it is! Why does a man leave the place he belongs, in search for other things? Could it be that he’s not satisfied with where he belongs, or does he belong somewhere else?
I taste what I cannot touch, and find what I do not see. I try and unravel life’s mysteries, yet I do not hold the key. In all my reasons at times I find, that I waste most of my life searching for what I already have attained. Forgetfulness? I say forgiveness is they key to this very thing.
In searching for the answers, I find a mess of logic swept behind, rational claims take the forefront, but the true heart can’t be seen with the eyes. Those who claim victory, are ones who have yet to attain it, for they claim it for themselves, when they did nothing to bring it about, how could they?.
I am but a fool, yet I am also a man.
Time takes its place, among the many things in life. Brushed off like its nothing, yet its counting down our lives. With each tick it passes on, reminding us where have we gone and for what reason were still doing here. ‘Finished is but my task!” you say, I say that’s quite the contrary, your task isn’t finished until you complete it, yet it is not your task to hold, nor your burden which you need to carry, the cross is the finisher, and it ends all life with a passion filled glory.
To contemplate the skies, and wonder how they were formed, “they were but a mass left here alone” you say. Yet I say, that is far from the truth, for what mass could not create, nor man could behold, God did with his own work, and with his very eyes we see such beauty and such truth!
I am but a man, yet I am also a child of God.
The future holds no possibility, for in Him all things consist, my life tells a story, but from Him my story is this. For It is already finished, authored by faith, in Him I am ready, to taste the glorious taste.
Oh what precious is the stone, which His blood was shed upon, thy light and thy truth, will be what carries on. I cannot see for certain, all the paths that linger on, but in this one path, I see where I belong.
The path that I follow, is not fixed with certainty, for to be certain is to know, but faith is being sure in which I don’t know, which is everything.
He holds my life in His hands, and crafted every moment before time began. In Him I trust, in Him I freely give my life away.
Away to Jesus, and carry me on, I’m headed home