I rage against the swallowing-up of days, of lives
spent making "life"
accomplishment, commitments, jobs, meetings, schedules, sports, hobbies
We crave excellence, but her altar demands a weighty sacrifice
our very life, frittered away
The unique joy and expectation of an unmapped day is relegated to remembrances of childhood summers long past
when the turn of our handlebar chose our route and where a mind captive only to imagination was writing the adventure with flowing script
I am hounded by calenders, clocks, and tasks which owe their heaviness to the mere fact that they refuse to follow the rythym of life
they take no sunset into account
no sick friend in need of hot soup and talk
no clatter of the mind which could be worked out with a good hour's peace and silence
Calenders mark days in rigid squares
ready to be diced up and consumed
obediently
To whom do I give ear?
The clamor of a world gone mad, drunk on busyness and productivity??
Or the voice of an ardent lover
who finds no waste in hours spent in prayer
who would rather I linger, toes in the sand, singing to Him above the crash of waves
than be a productive resounding gong
Our way of "life" is killing our hearts
and with that death we've lost our eyes to see Him
to hear Him!
And we are jailed in the month of May.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
beautiful sarah. that was beautiful
I like it!
How true you are. Rodney has often said he wishes he could throw away the clocks.
We must be careful and guard our lives and schedules so that the "good and necessary" doesn't overtake the More Excellent Way.
Miriam N
a constant struggle: time and how one should spend it.
Post a Comment