Dirty, when I bathe in cares of this life.
Heavy, asking too much, they pull wings off preventing flight.
Running from silence and minimalism until thinking about them deeper.
Holding onto anchors while complaining of being too weak to meet the ocean’s door above.
Waking up without taking my cross, is it any wonder I’m losing?
Praying amiss for finer things, comfortable on this violent battlefield.
Pretty webs, sexy snares, sensual entangling legs revealed to be sharp chains.
Saying I let go while twisting fingers behind my back like Heaven cannot discern my ignorance.
People only do one thing on a cross, die to suffer loss, one thing on the cross.
Die to self to suffer loss, carrying the cross, paying the cost.
Bring all I have, rip it all in half, kill my flesh.
Grain of wheat, fall into the Earth.
Otherwise, you’ll be alone without any fruit.
So is it going to be these pretty fading tempting tantalizing lights or a greater eternal life?
Setting our affection on things unseen above, for we are dead, with our lives hidden with Christ in God.
What is the good life that you seek?
Is it really where you’re called to be?