Can’t help but think

So many of us, in such proximity, struggling quietly, struggling in silence, struggling alone. Stoic, strong. Rock. Island.


Life line…

Secretly praying for the same salvation, the same kind of paradise. Praying in a little shoe box, each of us stacked, one on top of the other. Stacked against the odds.

Will no one cut a hole in their little box? Let a little light fall in? Wriggle a little fat fleshy finger through. Just one touch seems enough to keep these times from being so tough.

Is it so wrong of us to find consolation in contact. Is it not a fundamental mammal need, without which the heArt and spirit dies?

I just can’t help but think, somehow we are missing the point?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: