Tired of sick.

I’m tired of sick. Maybe you’re sick of poems. Sorry – I’m on a bit of a kick. There will be brilliant thoughts here again someday! For now, I’m saving those for my NaNo novel. No pictures today. I’m tired of pictures. This is a prayer about wanting more, inspired by a chest cold, an argument, and a bad case of writer’s block. In absence of a beautiful image, please accept this quote; I am blatantly stealing it from one of my favorite of my dad’s sermons.

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” – C.S. Lewis // The Weight of Glory, and Other Addresses

I’m tired of sick, I’m tired of sick
that’s putting me to sleep.

I’m tired to think, at the end of it
I cannot help but creep

Back to the sick, the tiring sick
the leaves me in the dark.

It hurts because I know the heart
is shaped for difference stark.

Something different – black and white,
as this is colorless fire.

The things I need to want
are not the things that I desire.

I have this wandering wanderlust,
a pinched-nerve hurt for elsewhere

But here, it’s hard, for here the World
will say I’ll never get there.

I’m tired of sick, I’m sick of tired,
but “nothing can I do,”

Is the HOPE, not my complaint,
I offer up to you.

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