Tuesday, April 5, 2005

Why are we allowed to decide how our lives will turn out at this stage in the game?
I'm more fascinated at this point with the intricate failings of the human heart then I am with any subject they can teach me in a classroom. At this point in my life I think I would be content to spend the rest of it trying to unlock myself.
I like to consider people as a whole; what makes us as detailed as we are. What a masterpiece we are in spite of ourselves. We are a work of art. Completely indescribable.
Consider every minute affection that afflicts the human heart and you will discover that it cannot be done. We cannot describe or invent words for love or devotion. All the good things in a human soul have no descriptions. And why should they? Love, for instance, is as wild and vital as it is because there are no words to tame it.
I prefer to have faith in the human race. After all, we are clinging to each other. I want to know why it is that we are bound together. I want words to describe how lovely it is to feel so alive that it aches.
Does everyone recognize the sting for what it is?

In other news, God, I hereby submit my weekly plea for deliverance. Haven't I learned my lesson over and over again?

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