Dear Lonely-soul, I'm writing to you
If you too feel isolated
If you long to be new.
I write since I too walked in that way.
I know your dark nights,
I know what people say.
Say, yes. It's what people do.
They talk and yet,
talk right past you.
But despite the appearance, they're quite like our type.
They talk to drown out,
And smile to look right.
Really, we all are making this brutal journey,
Weathered and worn,
Wandering and weary.
Woven into the fibers of every story,
The threads of curse,
The injustice and unholy.
Each life finds a foot in grave and in glory,
Every joy is stained,
Yet silver lines worry.
It's bitter, isn't it? This longing and waiting.
The entropy of normal,
Start again with each waking.
But it was in this place that life was breathed in,
I was met by the Author,
And I ran to Him.
We all think we need answers, and so I begged,
But the Answer was Him,
All I had craved.
Crave and wish and wait, our addiction,
Oh, if we knew how He loved,
How secure His affection!
We could rest and release from bar and cage,
Our soul wrought by fear,
Self-made paper chains.
Oh, I can't promise that with the snap of the fingers,
All your sorrows will vanquish.
No, most days pain lingers.
But it's all a crescendo to the encore awaiting,
All things made new.
Silenced, my aching.
So dear Lonely-one, please do not despair.
Let Him be friend.
He sees. He cares.