Sometimes I scribble out random poetry. It's nearly always associated with music, lilting and melodic or loud and cacophonous. Not to a tune I know, but to sounds I feel in my soul. And I'm just suddenly driven to start writing things down. Afterwards, a lot of times, I'll open up my Bible and start reading the Psalms, where David bears his soul before our Lord. My poetry is that for me. Bearing my soul. Sometimes it comes out in the form of prayers. Sometimes I leave it raw. Sometimes I go back and revise. Not surprisingly, the theme often has to do with love (a favorite topic of mine). This is the raw version of something I wrote last night:
blurry lines,
where I end, you begin,
we combine.
banking on hope—two is better than one
instead of imprisoning, freeing
lack of definition reconstituting vision,
redefines and elevates
beyond ourselves into something else
complete me
better me
bring out the best in me
pick a line
impossible to define
why we work better together than we do on our own
no longer alone
blurry lines,
where the river ends and the ocean begins
constant ebb and flow
new depths
new highs
butterflies all the time
understanding beyond reason
cherishing beyond measure
realizing the truth—two is better than one
maturing into willing sacrifice
one before the other
where you end, I begin,
we combine.
blurry lines.
Re-reading it today sent me to I John 4. Then I Corinthians 13. Both of which got me thinking of how much more God loves me than I can know or understand or will ever be able to love Him back. Overwhelming and awesome.
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal." I Corinthians 13:1
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