Wasteland

I wander through the woods of wounding memories, burned deep,
and feel the spires of shadows through emptiness. I seek
for peace and plenty here within this broken soul
and find myself still wandering through loss. It's what I know.

And yet a deeper rumble echoes strong throughout this land,
it vibrates in my heartbeat and shakes beneath my hands;
and when I glimpse the searing light that burns before my gaze,
it strengthens all the shadows in this melting, smoking haze.

Know there beyond the tearing veil, too radiant to hide,
a universe of plenty flows, welling up inside.
It explodes above my landscape and erupts before my sight
though I fear to claim it since it sears with fiery light.

Yet when I reach to touch the gift, more than I thought to seize
will cascade through my fingers, submerging all of me.
And so it shatters even more the wasteland of the past
consuming ash with growing life, abundant, green at last.

Too much to hold, too much too keep, I must give it away
or the plenty overcomes me as I block its great display.
Sometimes I fall beneath the flood that overwhelms my heart
yet others see what I cannot, still pouring in the dark.

Yes, I'm still learning to accept. All is not as it seems
it's easier to feel the fall of all my fragile schemes,
but when I start to notice the great love beyond the break
holding myself together becomes a tragic waste.

And thus in fear and trembling, I walk this life made new,
a temple so unsettling I wonder if it's true.
It shapes anew as I erode and changes my remains.
Somehow my essence forms again a fuller, brighter flame.

It's better to be broken and transforming to be free
from the limits I was setting to what love will make of me.

---

In response to Bonnie Gray of Faith Barista.