He flows in an out of his faith practice. He flows not out of faith, faith he as, but the practice, the intentionality thereof, the praying for others, praying for himself, praying to the Father for grace with thanksgiving and asking for help where help is needed, this then is where and when he just seems to drift.

He looses the feel, the touch of the Fathers hand. He tumbles, bound as a hunk of driftwood in a raging river in flood stage racing to a churning sea. He is as lost as a marble in quicksand. He stares into a dark rain making snake trails on the window facing east. On this miserable February night he is blind to grace.

‘Where are you, and where am I that I would pass unnoticed to die this way?’ he says to himself.

Songs of worship, hope and praise do not help nor do they pass from his lips even as his guitar sits waiting at his feet, vibrating to deaf ears and a frozen soul.
‘I feel as an alien’ but that’s much to passive a term; ‘I’m an unknown soldier in the constant battle of good and evil. I’m wind blown in an ill wind. I’m dry as parchment set out to burn when ever the scorching sun returns. This infernal and internal rain drums on my window. To the world and the room of my soul there is nothing to hear, no angelic voice beseech’s me to follow. Hollow is the space where there should be songs of God and his grace.”

“It’s all on me Lord. There is no doubt, I know!
My sorrow is the mortal effects of a day gone astray, a day which seem’d to began on the wrong side of the bed. A simple mistake which takes all day to poorly mend. Angry words, unthought out thoughts slinging arrows and wounding the sun rise. Day passes into an evening now laced with regret and repentance.

“My skin was blistered. My agenda was mauled with much thoughtlessness in an attempt to correct that which went so wrong through no ones fault and someone’s thoughtless lack  (if one were to believe the abject blame on someone else) of responsibility. Who will stand and say I am responsible.

“In all the worlds scheme of things was it all so very bad after all? Yes!
Did my war of words bring peace or correct the injustice done by chance and malice to rampant emotions with a lack of patience and no forethought? No!

So here at the end of the day when angst is left alone to pass, what was it all about? Was it all for naught? When will the situations be controll’d in stead of situations being the controller? When will I muster and use todays lesson to pass the endless parade of new tests coming with the light of tomorrows new day?

“When Lord, indeed.

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