Some Thing S
Deep somewhere one is the other and the back and before come around to make for Texas in a vintage limousine. Here and away, the waves rocking nearby and sand whistles clear the morning of sleep tendrils. Braxton oak. Volcanic hope. Sought for by lost and found by despair. Monolithic merriment concave of disbelieving sound and fury. You can’t live in a hurry. The most frustrating moments hearken unto thee the greatest tidings for great joy just so happens to be one of his specialties. Did you know it’s impossible to wait impatiently? God’s honest truth. As far as he is concerned, until you’re waiting patiently, you’re not waiting at all. In God’s world (and that’s a pretty big one, I’m told), waiting is an active word.Today. Here. Now. The limit as time approaches me from the left, and the right. It’s a monstrous awakening. I look behind and before but always am here. I live here. Hallelujah, I live here. I’m amazed at how much God hangs out with a messed up guy like me. A slingshot.
When I was a child and thought like a child and acted like a child, I had a slingshot. I shot an orange once, a songbird once, and sparrows not nearly often enough. Practice makes perfect? Develop the skill so as to aim with perfection or hope the shot counts when the time is right? It seems so very clear looking at it that way, but the only target that remain undamaged is the one missed.
posted by Lauren @ Tuesday, December 20, 2005
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