While walking through the days with Time on my heels, tapping my shoulder now and again, my thoughts consistently loom over the optimism of death. It's so often been my hope, the promise of 'now' not being my future, but 'then'.
Difficult my cage that binds me far beneath my shelter.
The Curse, knowledge seeing infinite within finality.
Left disappointed, God looks down on me;
"Gifts of love beyond the finite?
Purpose no immortal soul could bear?
Graciousless you curse the skin I've wrapped you in!"
As angels look on my life with envy, I stumble to find my role in a chaotic realm.
A perfect life lies waiting for me to pick it up; not beyond the veil but within the imperfection in which I'm cast.
An immortal soul tainted with mortality, is me.
A haggard weed given the chance to bloom and flourish in a barren land.
Being fed Almighty wisdom and watered with the promise of value, I repent and gorge on His sustenance.
Shortsightedness had blinded me again.
Is forever how long it will take me to learn His love?