Between joy and weariness

One thing is what we desire. The other thing is what we can.

Between joy and weariness

The world outside my home is waving at me with promises of joyful existence. But my legs are weak, my heart is failing to give me wings to dance the happy steps. Behind the windows of my soul, desires are fluttering like colorful birds trapped in a cage made of gold. They try to find the way outside but soon give up, exhausted, defeated, as time unfolds. Half of my heart is craving for the laughing of unconcerned gladness, while the other half is longing for the peace of stillness. Nothing in between. I wonder if this weariness stringing my legs, could be an embrace of Love from Heaven, helping me to tame this wild heart of mine. Guiding my wings to fly only to where my eternal destiny lies.

12 September 2015

Reviews

[Robert Trakofler]

My first reaction in reading this is wanting to reach over and open the cage door to let the pretty birdie out but then I am reminded of how I was once described as such and the completion of the description in story was how the pretty birdie then drew blood from its would be rescuer LOL and then I am left wondering if you are my sister:) and then also is the would be rescuer grace itself and we were merely balking at the divinity

[Shandra Sun]

I d'ont know dear Robert. Are we? Balking at the divinity? Perhaps my heart is too stubborn indeed. I get impatient about the idea that I have no clue why I am here, living this life, struggeling with so much. Do you know what this is all about, my friend?

[Robert Trakofler]

just when I think I do I find out im wrong:)

[Shandra Sun]

Exactly ...

[light and ashes]

Magnificent....my soul feels these words in full.

[barleygirl]

I had to read this twice & read every sentence carefully, stopping to think often. At first it felt like I couldn't relate, even tho your msg is strongly & creatively expressed. But then I saw the connection. This is how I feel about being utterly alone at the end of my life. Many older people complain how everyone forgets about them & I did feel resentful, at first. But I've come to love the peacefulness of solitude & I don't mind living without the chaos that others often bring. I love it when a writer can capture the odd contrasts of life & feelings (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie