METAMORPHOSIS [a poem]
In the minds of our eyes we lie awake, wasking delightfully in the thoughts of our hearts, swimming blissfully in the ocean of the comfort, aesthetically adorned in our sight.
In the course of my life I must do this, we say, proclaiming our visions into existence, sternly excavating the chaff we dispice.
This cannot be me in the future, we scream, prophesying to the hearing of our minds, striving through the glitch of our limitations.
My children cannot go through this we say, convincing ourselves to never believe otherwise, channelling out our decisions into reality, starting with our next action.
This I must do, you tell your friends, establishing the same pedestal you move, working together to the same destination.
Halfway in you meet a block, strong enough to push you off your track, the sight of your role model in the streets of the city, parking refuse into his bag, his naked body lying at bay.
In the midst of the shocking bewilderment you ask yourself, of what use is this race? Of what use is the struggle?
Then it hits you, the destination you have in view is only but a part, one you can only wholly and happily achieve with the strong hand of the Lord directing your every move!