It's late. Bars have made their last call, sending their patrons into the unforgiving night. Places like uptown are filled with a frenzy of activity. Street corners are jammed with people thinking; what next? Parents have gone to bed. Their children, asleep long ago, are unaware of what goes on in the final hours of a day. Man and woman embrace, sharing one of God's most precious gifts. But now that time has passed and as they lie next to each other they pause to think; what next? A young man begins to walk, unable to sleep and needing to clear his head. This time is full of stillness; an intangible force lingering in the air which tells the young man he is entirely alone. His walk brings him past familiar places. Objects that he knows in daylight take on a new charcter in the dark. At times foreboding, his surroundings are also full of this stillness. His mind begins to wander and ponder the greater things in life. He mulls over thoughts of love, happiness, sucess, God, and life in general. Questions are answered with more questions while the night continues to say nothing...except stillness.
He wonders what he will do when school begins again:Will he suceed in his classes? Will his friendships grow? Will he find love in friends, family, and relationships? He also wonders what will happen tomorrow and the next day: Will his job pay well enough for him to repay his debts? Will he continue to keep to a schedule and not waste his time? Will God forgive him for not going to church? Is he even a Christian anymore?
He stops to pray... that same prayer he always says that attmepts to make up for weeks or even months of silence. Many times the young man is like tonight's surroundings; saying nothing except stillness. God calls to him but he ingores. He doesn't know where to begin, what to say, or what to do. All he can think is.... what next?
2 comments:
The world which is made of our love for emptiness
Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
this place made from our love for that emptiness!
Yet somehow comes empitness,
this existence goes.
Praise be to that happening, over and over!
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of
dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.
The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece
of straw
blown off into empitness.
These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning:
existence, empitiness, mountain, straw: words
and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.
You are amazing at expressing core human emotions (including your own) in written form! Please keep it up!
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