untitled document my life it seems
malcontent overflowing in wasteful days
people always say
your life is an empty, open book
write it.
and for a long time
i think i misunderstood the word empty
the word open.
i think i believed
that my life has not yet been lived
been loved
begun
i think that truly i thought i was nothing
of no importance
until the day i went to college
until the day i moved out
published my first book
made a difference that the whole world could see
moved to Africa to become a missionary
you see i thought
that the world only believed you were special
important
making a difference
if your name was known;
if you did all the right things.
well, i don’t do all the right things,
hardly ever do, actually.
and i never will.
so i guess that means that my life
will neither begin nor end
it will always be empty
empty pages filled with wishes and hopes and
apologies and trying harder and doing the best i can
and my book will always be open
open with possibilities and regrets and
windows where the light suprised me and the darkness tried to frighten me.
except today
i walked outside and felt the heat of the sun burn my skin with passion
as if it had nothing else to live for other than
reminding me of the fact that i
am
alive.
and every step every breath
has been a word, a thought written down and remembered
life, for me, began long ago
and continues now through
malcontent and staying in one place
and the excitement of leaving where you’ve always been
behind
the fear of leaving where you’ve always been
behind.
but a wise man once said
“coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving”
but never leaving is not always wrong not always the end not always empty not always open
and leaving is not always right not always the beginning not always full not always open
but loving
caring
wherever you are wherever you go
somehow these things
write more words sing more songs
make life lived
somehow, love
makes a way
even when where you are is a place you’ve always been,
when love enters there is change
and though your life feels
as though you are nothing
as though your book is too empty too open
when love enters
you begin to lose yourself
when you realize that to love another person
is to feel the sun burning your skin,
writing words onto your pages,
words where once i thought was only emptiness now filled
with wishes and hopes and
apologies and trying harder and doing the best i can
words open
open with possibilities and regrets and
windows where the light suprised me and the darkness tried to frighten me.
words and sunsets reminding me that the world is thriving
but waiting to be loved
reminding me that there are people
waiting to be loved
even if i never leave where i have always been
there are people waiting to be loved.
i walked outside today and remembered that i am loved.
untitled document my life it seems, but
the days are not wasted, they are burnt into my skin.
hoping against all hope that i will have the courage to love.
oh, that i should love as He first loved us.
then my story, i know, would be not empty,
but full.
