Many Years

|Christianity|Aaron Blakeley

Many years…. how they pass. I am so young only thirty about to be thirty one. Yet even in my youthful vigor I have found my bones drained of their marrow and my arms weak like sparrow wings. The weight of knowledge and adult hood tapped a drain hole in the lower part of my soul and has drained me of all motivation. Only leaving obligation and a begrudging yes.

I have done for so long, when did the joy of it all go away. Sure I get an inkling of it from time to time, but I don’t wonder if I am just licking the bottom of the barrel. That only gives me splinters in my tongue. Yet if I was told that the joy was just on the other side of the wood, I would sand a solid hole through the wood with said tongue¬†just to lap up the joy on the other side. I guess that’s how hope works. I don’t wonder if I know too much for it to be that easy.

So I wondered out to a dry place. One that I knew would be harsh. One that I could expect the sun to beat me and the wind to be hot and full of sand and choking dust. There in this sanctuary of known pain I wait. Sure I still feel some warmth come off the ashes of a once vibrant drive but I fear sifting them. I might snuff it looking for the one coal.

Yet I wait. My skin is burnt from the sun and my lungs heavy from the sand. I am not dying though. There is one who is greater, he decides when, not I… I own him that respect. Over the distance just over the next dune there he is with fresh fire and strong drink. Food enough till death take me but I dare not leave this place yet. My fire does not burn and I can not remember his voice as loud as it should be the wind drowns it out. It’s not the winds fault though.

My fault … it’s my fault I let the flame go out. I let myself be drained. I broke my own bones against time and duty never considering the cost. Where does love come from friend. It comes from him just over the dune. My love is sick and here in the heat and wind I nurse it. There was a place once like this. It shook with the weight of history and sacrifice. The earth shook and the sky was darkened. The veil was torn and so much blood watered a place like this. There was a loud voice there …. That voice! The voice I forgot.

The one who is to be desired. The one who is to be enjoyed. Just over the dune there. He is there. Yes, I still do not remember but I am sure he can tell me. Judging by the light just over the dune he must have new fire. Many years have taken this fires light but it’s ashes, they can be rekindled.

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