I run away, but there's no where to run. Everywhere I go - he is there.
I have a joy, though I'm not content. I have peace, but lingering resent.
I can't rid myself of the truth that strips away my grief. My mind programmed into a state of automatic stability.
I want to go home, but home is no where to be found. It seems a disarray of blackness is all that will surround.
The white noise, the small breaths, the rain that spits on the back of my neck. The busy pace, the intellectual race.
This isn't it.
The overcast skies, abandoned people lie. Seemingly forgotten with no where to hide.
They are alone. I am not, but I hear my heart still groan.
Where do I go?
I can't escape. No beach with white sands, no mountains that feels grand. No luxury mall, no historic wall. Nothing makes me want to stay.
My ten year old voice shrieks, "I want to go home" as I cry on my bed.
A home I had for ten years or so, but the emptiness still there. Innately my soul knowing it was bare.
That voice echoes in me now.
Outside a stone face, inside displaced. Am I a mesh of atoms and flickering lights? A chaos DNA that tells me wrong from right.
What else is there?
Do I have any choices or am I subject to the wills of the world?
He is sovereign, he is real. He says I matter, he says he cares.
I have to go back to the truth - that perfect love is given to me. That statement proven on that cursed tree.
Undeserving, but doesn't understand.
Why am I free?
I can't shake my sense of removal. The world I see, so empty to me.
If only I could disappear from existence, but that's not a choice. I'm made as I am, I'm given a perfect plan.
Help me Daddy, I'm an infant. Weak, fearful, fully dependent.
Home I want, but here I stay. His will I trust until my last day.