I have this awful habit of holding off on everything that gives me joy
wether it be till the end of the day or the end of the year
The case in which this gives me the most trouble is when it comes to spiritual pleasures
may they be simple and not asking much of my time
I will go through an entire day, feverish at the thought
of time alone spent with My Creator, My Lord
Quiet, Nothing but communion between myself and The All-Knowing
But it must "always wait" until I finish my work
The actuality being that even while I'm thinking of putting HIM off,
I can be in touch, saying prayers under my breath
lifting my thoughts up
I much prefer a secluded spot amongst HIS creation
But tis not necessary.
This realization has been a long time coming.
Thank you, G_D
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
"the truth"
The desire to write a book struck me this morning
Not that I would necessarily act upon the impulse
But that if I was to, it would be called "the truth"
It would be autobiographical
"Truth", in respect to the proposed volume, would be observed in three different ways.
The first and forth most being The Creator, the only real truth that has ever spoken to me.
Secondly and much more overlying, my quondam as well as my present self.
A past and even current struggle (I truthfully hate to admit) with compulsive lying,
I feel self-reconciliation just from the thought of how this book might read.
And on the subject of reconciliation, the last way in which truth presents itself
Would be that I am sincerely just human.
How constantly I need remind myself of this reality is astounding.
Even more so, how constantly I myself am reminded of this by external factors is exhausting.
Small type, "the truth"
in the middle of an otherwise blank page
my fingers would strike the typewriter keys all through the night
"we were never related by blood"
"not hundreds, but perhaps 2"
"only by heart and circumstance"
"much less, so the possibility is slim"
"i thought my life to be boring, so i decided that i must invent another"
"i never lived there before"
"and these pieces of fiction got me into trouble regularly"
"i begin to wonder if it was worth it?"
Not that I would necessarily act upon the impulse
But that if I was to, it would be called "the truth"
It would be autobiographical
"Truth", in respect to the proposed volume, would be observed in three different ways.
The first and forth most being The Creator, the only real truth that has ever spoken to me.
Secondly and much more overlying, my quondam as well as my present self.
A past and even current struggle (I truthfully hate to admit) with compulsive lying,
I feel self-reconciliation just from the thought of how this book might read.
And on the subject of reconciliation, the last way in which truth presents itself
Would be that I am sincerely just human.
How constantly I need remind myself of this reality is astounding.
Even more so, how constantly I myself am reminded of this by external factors is exhausting.
Small type, "the truth"
in the middle of an otherwise blank page
my fingers would strike the typewriter keys all through the night
"we were never related by blood"
"not hundreds, but perhaps 2"
"only by heart and circumstance"
"much less, so the possibility is slim"
"i thought my life to be boring, so i decided that i must invent another"
"i never lived there before"
"and these pieces of fiction got me into trouble regularly"
"i begin to wonder if it was worth it?"
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