Life is uncertain. Tomorrow is not promised. Yet we go on chasing self absorbed goals and collecting our toys. We pretend that the road ahead is a clear path marked with instructions on how to navigate the storms. Like we're not at the mercy of an indifferent and mysterious God. When our toys break, every breath feels like crossing an ocean. You ache for the times when salvation wasn't a myth. When hunger and sleep could live in the same house as pain. The playground is haunted for you, yet hustling and bustling for the world. You seek refuge in discipline, God, scriptures but nothing feels closer than the weight in the chest. Like a constant companion that never leaves, even on the good days.
If you manage to sit with it long enough, it lets you off the hook for sometime. When its gone for sometime, what do you do ?
Instead of cleaning up the junk in your sould that led you to the darkness, you forget that it ever happened. As if the dark night of the soul that almost broke you was a temporary halt in your continous game of self indulgence.
You burry your head in the sand until the storms pass away.
Until the cycle repeats itself and you begin to stop rejoicing the break from the pain. May be
You forget how fragile life is because the living in the comforting illusion is all you've ever known. Instead of remembering the lessons and changing our ways like you promised would, you collect new toys and build a new house of cards.
