A Theme

The notes strike like hammers in my heart. A song of gaiety, but I only feel sad… Pools of clear black reflect back the world that dares peek into them. Is it true what we see? Is everything really embroiled in a flat mire of the glossiest black? Oh, God, save us from this pit!

Why do these emotions rest on me? Why does my chest think it's been split open like a chunk of wood split in two? A grayish mist fills the vale and I suppose I've said too much. But who really does? Speaking out of turn maybe; speaking the wrong things, all the time. But truly too many people say too little too late…

On Judgment Day, every word that was ever spoken will echo forth again. Then more words will be spoken for every word that was spoken, to give some account of them. If only one word is spoken for every word that was, then that's twice as many words as ever were. …Will there even then be enough?

Words can sooth the human heart. Words can assuage the wounds of the soul. But is anyone intent on this art? Does anyone care about what they say? Does anyone take care what they say? "I don't know how," is not good enough. Not by a long shot if you're a living, breathing, speaking human being. You must learn how or you must die trying, it's as straight forward as that.

Pray! Pray, for God will hear you. Not one of his words will fall to the ground, and he will lift you up on the wings of eagles! To soar among the clouds… What a difference from being stuck in a mire.

That song is back. With it, some of the gaiety has returned. There is an understanding in it, like the understanding between leaves and wind. Two hands, one holding another. Two voices, laughing and talking; saying words that matter, from the heart. Supporting, building, holding one another aloft. Through it all there's the song, like a third someone. He it is that holds the two together.

Ecclesiastes 4:12 "…a threefold cord is not quickly broken."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05eArjS92oM&feature=related