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Broken

March 5, 2009

Broken. In the wilderness. Exiled. In the desert. Surrounded perhaps only by heat. And desperation. And perspiration. And nothing else.

Grasping onto nothing. Crying out for help. No one answers except for the sun that keeps on shining. No wind. No rain. No one that was there before is there now. It’s just me. Alone. And I cry out not to be alone anymore.

Broken. In a crowd. Exiled. In the biggest city. Surrounded perhaps by the largest skyscrapers. And strongest metals. And toughest people. And everything else.

Grasping onto nothing. Crying out for help. No one answers except for the sun that keeps on shining. Lots of wind. Lots of rain. Everyone that was there before is there now, but none of them answer. None of  them can help him now. And the man in the city cries out to be in the desert.

We are completely broken. In the same way. We blame our circumstances and cry out for something deeper. Something more. Something that reaches out towards us, not moving farther and farther away from us.

But we cannot find it. In our soul there is a fault. We call it normal, you may call it a defect. But we fight to keep it everyday. I pray to rid of it while practicing to make it better. He just lives with it, knowing it does not satisfy. And why are we are okay with this? We aren’t. But  we know no other way.

We are broken. Into so many finely broken pieces that we swear we are barely recognizable anymore. Unable to be put back together again. So we have no hope. And we are. But we aren’t. We are breathing, but we are not living. We are broken.

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