Shades of Drew

It's not your fault, but I'm not the one to blame. No matter how diligent or pure of intent, who among us could win the fight of the heart on its own home turf?  Easier yet to swim against the ocean tide or to control a paper airplane in the hurricane.  You just don't know the hell you create for me when you look at me...sparking dreams that we could be, when we can't. Though you tempt and hold powers to sway my mind, the blame is not yours, but the fault is not mine.  Taking the long way 'round as not to fall prey to your bewitching glance, I'm ever so careful not to let you see my dance, the dance I do only for you...even when I know I have no chance.  Someone needs to stand and assume the responsibility to fix this that could lead to something broken, yet I assume the position, well aware that my decision will only cause fault and blame.  Fault and blame like a flickering flame with exposing light of love in vain. Planting fertile soil around...

Pressured to force my square to slide through the star-shaped space, I am exhausted.  I want to find comfort in my four corners, but the stars shine so brightly.  Always the odd-man out, looking in, with just a little piece of sin, willing to purchase a place.  Now the odd-man in, looking out, with a hidden tear, willing to purchase a place.  What can be done for him who has been everywhere yet belongs nowhere?  Grateful for even the smallest piece of the very thing that could kill him, head hung low, averting gazes from the huge piece of the very thing that could save him.  Simply to open the door seems a task too great, but staying is impossible. Staying is simple. I am exhausted, having not done anything. Envious of the exhaustion gained by those fiercely fighting for their dream, I lie here, lying to myself saying that I fight. How much time is left?  Will the exhaustion finally win. Has Exhaustion come to claim his prize?  Wil...

Lying here in this bed of my own design, clumsily crafted and molded with a rebellious mind, held together with loose tape and far-reaching thoughts of what could have been, I wonder if my time has passed.  Have I wasted this gift God has given, life?  Surely He must be fed up with all that I haven't done.  Sick and tired of me fighting against even the thought of His purpose for my life. Maybe deep inside I know God's plan for my life. Maybe what I perceive as God's plan is a presumptuous feeling of importance. Steadily reaching for the top when God may have called me to sweep the bottom.  Yes, Jesus was the sacrifice and was slain so that I may have all of what I have done nothing to deserve. Ungrateful and undeserving as I am, I still want the biggest dream anyone could dream to come true for myself. My dream of happiness.  Knowing my happiness could be in the sweeping or possibly in the acceptance of what God has for me to be...or of what Go...

Sometimes the weight of living this life like a sack of bricks weighs so heavily on my chest that I lose my breath, and breathing is pain; living is more than I can bare.  Void of joy, sometimes I smile to hold back the tears, laughing to hide my truth. Silently wondering how the wandering of my youth was so misguided - so far off track.  Too far from the path I'd planned, sometimes I feel so very lost in all this mess I've made of life. My destination so very clear, so very near but the will to keep going and the wisdom in knowing just can't compete with the darkness.  Sometimes I'm afraid that the straw will break the camel's back, that I will step on the crack, and my time will be up. No more chances to push through the funk. No more silver linings or flip side of the coin.  Sometimes I have more times than I can count, far out numbering the other times, and at some point I need to realize that this time I need to move beyond those sometimes. ...

Basking in the midst of undeserved blessings, flowing freely and generously, ungrateful and seemingly unaware of shielded bullets I didn't even see. ...Living life full of what I want and chasing selfish desires. If I am to be honest with myself, this is what I have become.  I can't imagine what God thinks when He looks at me with His rosy colored lens, able as only He can to see through the nonsense I've built for myself, able to move beyond the wall I've carefully constructed. Dear God help me to be honest with myself.  Speaking words with hopes that ear drums would be massaged, articulating and deviating from native tongue I say what I think needs to be heard, instead of what my heart receives from You....You, my Lord, help me to be honest with myself.  Lost in the spaces between letters I piece together a Word that justifies my disobedience, my fleshly desires when I know that God requires a sacrifice. My life, Father I give to You with my full consent ...