And I guess
we’re all
edible,
letting ourselves be
(or yet being able to stop from being)
devoured by our
expectations,
environment,
and
egos,
being swallowed whole
by the earth
and its many woes.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
And I guess
we’re all
edible,
letting ourselves be
(or yet being able to stop from being)
devoured by our
expectations,
environment,
and
egos,
being swallowed whole
by the earth
and its many woes.
We all
want
love,
purpose,
good food,
and understanding,
yet we
somehow
manufacture
differences
between us.
We’re creatures
so paradoxically made
that we need
pain
dishealth
and heartbreak
to compel us
into self-discipline,
consequences so
grave and horrifying
that we
almost reach out
to good behavior.
Imagine a beast
so depraved
that it cannot
even act
in its own
favor.
It is difficult to determine
whether
having a day set aside for gratitude
is a cause for celebration
or for shame.
We don’t ascribe days to
breathing
or
waking
or
thinking
because we do those things, always.
What a thorough humiliation
that we cannot say the same
for thankfulness.