The bony hands of Pain reach out from my past, those skeletons have escaped, their dusty hands hold me, paralyzed, in my present. Those dry bone fingers wrap around my neck, strangling me, dead, to a future not filled with anything... that isn't reduced to nothing, in the end.
Those dry bone bad lands have whispered in my ears, through the years. "You'll never amount to anything." The ash from my past blows through the air, in through my hair, reaches down into my despair, with, "Nothing you do will ever amount to anything because you keep. Being. Nothing."
That slithering snake, his hissing, is never missing from my thoughts. He no longer needs to be here. for me to see him lear. into my disdain. into my heartaches and pains. Of growing up, believing and reeling from the storms that blast from the past, those whirlwindwhispers of, "Nothing you say is worth being heard. You're not worthy. Of anything... good. You're not worthy. Of doing something... that won't be smashed. Into a pile of ash. You're discarded trash."
He crawls away, to let me know, I'm not even worthy of his presence. leaving me. a lone. Saying it all to myself. Over and over, again. I am left. Whispering. in my own ear, dry bone words, that speak, into my heart that leaks, until it no longer beats, "You are nothing."
The enemy has done quite a work on me. Reducing me. Taking my something. Beating it down. Crushing me. Down. To dust and ash. A pile of discarded trash. Baring Pain. That makes me. keep. Being nothing.
Fifty years into my life. And I am still. without form. There's no use, for me. I have been voided. A worthless check. Darkness covers the face of my deep blue depths. And my bad lands. are barren. No plants in my fields. For my seeds. Have had no rain. This has not been my year, as I had hoped, of jubilee.
And so that old familiar song, still, sings, in my head, with a voice of its own.
"I told you so. Long, long ago. Down by the river. Underneath that old tree."
"See?" That voice keeps saying, "I was right. You are nothing. Even you," he keeps hissing, "agree. With me."
It hasn't been easy. Being. Nothing. I've tried so hard. To be. Something. But I just keep failing. And wailing. over and over and over again...
i am
Still.
Being.
Nothing.
I was recently reminded. God. Only. Begins. with nothing.
And sow I hear. The Seed of a New Song in my ear. Settling into the dust and ash in my dry bone bad lands. and i sea. with His Palms of Provi.Dance with the Rhythm of Aloha. for me. And I believe. Being Nothing. With my God. is a Good. place to be.
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