All things are full of weariness; man cannot utter it: the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. ~ Ecclesiastes 1:8 (American Standard Version)
Yeah, yeah. I know. The trees are budding,
birds fly in formation, sunsets paint the sky.
A child’s smile, a bridegroom’s tear — “things” should touch my heart.
Instead I see the filthy, the tedious, the reprehensible.
Nobody can spell.
Heck, they can’t even string a sentence together.
I can’t count on anybody to do anything right, to follow through, to see to detail.
And I don’t have time.
All things are wearisome. Life is wearisome.
birds fly in formation, sunsets paint the sky.
A child’s smile, a bridegroom’s tear — “things” should touch my heart.
Instead I see the filthy, the tedious, the reprehensible.
Nobody can spell.
Heck, they can’t even string a sentence together.
I can’t count on anybody to do anything right, to follow through, to see to detail.
And I don’t have time.
All things are wearisome. Life is wearisome.
God, shatter my shell so the world can flood my soul.
I want to feel, even if it’s pain. I want to live.
I need to live in your love.
I want to feel, even if it’s pain. I want to live.
I need to live in your love.
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