Mistaken Mold

Faith. Words. Approach and attitude. You walk a fine line. This is personal, because many misinterpreted both with me.

God is an infinite well of strength.
And as a pebble swayed and smoothed
-swirled 'round and 'round among waves-
should His liquid love engulf and sooth.

Such drowning power overwhelming
and
the unthinkable sacrifice enacted.

But if He possesses such strength,
why must I always shield myself?!
And if such ardent affection is present,
why do I sigh, lonely and without help?!

Why such painful sacrifice
when
His power should deny that necessity?

My inner soul is not my own-
my mind's workings grind incessantly
a tumultuous churning of emotions.
Self near lost, flailing in tempest stormy.

Those well-aimed spears flung towards I
are actually accusing, undisguised query
tossed amidst the scorching blaze of battle.
And what can I think of Him I've never felt or seen?

For think it must and shall be,
as there's nothing left and no way to speak.
Thoughts my brain communicates clearly
veer into nowhere the crystal turning misty.

Chaotic gibberish replaces questioning
but
undeniably rooted, thought.

Parallel are Speech and God-
my mind desires to probe both,
but tongue knows not mind's language, thus
this sword slices Speech and God in its approach.

A tangled confusion in error mistaken
as
rising, crimson welts of disdain.

Author's Note

Hmm...I was questioning God, His existence...just Him. And...I also could never express myself properly. I spoke in such a manner that was always interpreted as disrespectful, acidic, disdainful....Thus the parallel. I meant no harm to either, I just wanted truth, and I could not find a way to express it.
And so:
"A tangled confusion in error mistaken
as
rising, crimson welts of disdain."