When words fall short..
why do my insides say ‘you don’t have the guts to express yourself’ ? Words are the tools used that take time. for me. some are born to joggle words blindfolded. Words, I don’t have enough of them. I have to shuffle a million times before the right positions come out.Giving a good posture to my ability to express through literature. Yet so many things exist within me. How else do I paint them out?
Songs require lyrics. Or at most they do. Poems have rhymes. Well, my being suggests a different form of way of perception to let out what lives inside my body that’s so physical making it so limited to understand this thing that is best (in our language) defined as spiritual. Some art that is nameless.
Crap, i don’ t know. It is found in hour-less worship. in family, in love. in prayer. in vacation.in conscious carelessness. in turning to praise in the midst of unwanted occurrences.
But however I begin to be in this place and effortlessly indulge in its fulfilling power to capture every single molecule of me, I know one truth. It all comes from above.
