Spinning, turning, quietly he is yearning
To fill his soul up with the passion
that is worthy of his God.
He hunkers down, he digs in,
trying to churn up the fire that’s within.
There is a twinkle, burning with just a spark,
Wanting to please but just fighting in his heart.
A heart that can be so lazy that is often so hazy,
like a fog rolling in, covers all that he can see,
but he knows his heart is reaching out for eternity.

Dropping down to his knees, in the dark he can barely see.
Calling out, crying out, “What is this all about?”
He wants to know the glorious riches, the wonders,
that the Disciples knew, but he fails, even
as the 12 so often failed.
Waking up earlier, staying up later, he
tries to shake the malaise that glosses over his eyes.
Shaking and quaking, he tries to break free.
He will run and fight and shake away from what holds him
and run to his God, arms open,
“Here I am Daddy”
catch, me.

January 20, 2004