for as long as i can declare, ‘the worst has come’, it has not. there are limits to words, extremities that it cannot explore.
then we add melodies and chords that give depth, thinking that if we disguise them we will see them for who they really are. there in their obscurity they are revealed, and we are given over to greater depths than mere ink on page.
yet there is a rhythm to song that distracts, a momentum that leaves no room for pause. the song must end, so every station is temporary, with each note leading to the next.
but what happens when it doesn’t end? when all we are left is the 4th minor hungover to silence?
there are limits to how much i can make you understand my pain. there are limits to how much i can express it. but reality has no concern for limits, it stretches on further, farther, pushing the emptyless cart forward.
who can understand my pain? who knows its cause?
is it not You Lord?
yet how shall i know You know? is it not through Your words? are there limits to how much i might know Your love?
my words betray me; they say what i really mean.
there are only exhausted avenues. where might i find solace in my pain?
keep me close to Your words. let my eyes not obscure them.