Rest

I have in me eternal longings;
hungers which cannot be satisfied here,
thirsts which cannot be quenched.

My soul aches for Something beyond,
Something it does not fully understand.

Something I cannot grasp.

Designed with Something missing
I will never stop searching

Until in Him I rest.

the blank, white page.

The cursor flashes on the blank, white page

daring me to type, to write, to speak

what’s on my mind, what’s in my heart.

Like a second Eliot, another Prufrock, I ask myself:

“Do I dare?”

“Do I dare disturb the universe?”

If I capture what I want to say in black text upon this white page,

If I set my thoughts adrift into this vast expansive sea of information,

full of more important thoughts, more eloquent words,

will it matter?

Or, I could so easily

delete

these words. No one would know the difference anyway.

Will their impact be missed?

Do I dare suppose I have anything important to say,

anything worth reading to write?

Can this small voice help answer the “overwhelming question?”

Can my two cents help bring order to this apparent chaos?