God’s way of answering the Christian’s prayer for more patience, experience, hope and love often is to put him into the furnace of affliction.
I have learned patience, and didn’t ask God for it, because whether I wanted to or not, because well, my timeframe isn’t important any more. I do the legwork, and things just work out the way they are meant to be. Life isn’t put on hold while things work themselves out in the ether. That’s not patience, that’s gutless.
More than anything on the planet I want a reunion, that one, she knows me from the inside out. The one where circumstance drove the inevitable wedge between us physically, but never emotionally. Since then there’s been too many collisions where carnal pursuits got in the way, where silence dictated action.
Uncertainty principles nothing more than an attempt at explaining the indefinable, and I’m trying to wrap my head around my indecision. That expression, time will tell, kind of feeling that’s a cop out. Time lies, days cheat, and months get lost in the vacuum of doubt.
The eternally linked collide at given moments, with life’s distractions getting in the way, and shifted focus accounts for too many missed opportunities. A little older, a little wiser, but seemingly stuck in that quicksand.
Love is a real mother fucker.