It is empty here inside me, no patterns on the wall. Few trophies are tacked on me – - little pride to bring the falls. Does it mean, Dear One, before I’ve begun all my efforts were counted as lost? And for my lack of pain, I just can’t gain, My passion can’t fulfill the cost. ——-
My praise doesn’t dwell in memories, my sorrows don’t own my tears. My song isn’t a love forlorn – embittered for all these years. My heart doesn’t break because it’s too late to hold on to what is true. All I have, all I ask All I want, Dear Lord Is You.
– Written to the Lord. For a while it just felt like the people who appeared to be ‘deep’ or have a close relationship with the Lord were the ones with heartbreaking stories, and a lot of baggage. I wrote this, just wondering if my relationship with the Lord was limited because I didn’t have a bunch of struggles.
© 2010, Caela Strong. All rights reserved.
