you say that you want to do big things for God. but won't you build that portion of the wall in front of your dwelling first? won't you do small things for Him too?
sometimes you feel so alone. so alone.
like a draft passing through the air,
like a vapour that vanishes,
inconsequential.
you look at the tornado, ferocious.
you look at the seabreeze, refreshing.
you look at the gale, mighty in power.
you look at yourself. stale drafting air.
yet you shouldn't compare, you've been taught.
each has been created to fulfil its own purpose.
but it is so hard, when you're just a useless passing plane of molecules.
not even considered a wind.
the blessings poured in, are they stopped up?
to be spilled and broken, flowing free.
but just a poor flickering flame
in danger of going out with every movement you make
just hanging on, hanging on.