invisible wrestling prolongs my destitute
in the land of waiting
wings of oblivious misery
over my crawly prayers
pretend to be crystal independent
give up the ordinary
is your gentle touch enough
to pierce through the elements of my callous imagination
save me from destruction of poetic vanity
wake me up
photo by P'
miserable we came out of nowhere wygrzebaliśmy się jak nędznicy znikąd
to become a staliśmy się
the most cherishable najcenniejszymi
judges of the angels sędziami aniołów
unperishable nieprzemijającymi
for aeons to be remembered na czasy zapamiętani
to witness aby świadczyć
unpredictable became the known as it is nieprzewidywalne stało się poznanym
but You are known as One ale przecież Ty jesteś znany jako Ten
who specializes in turning things specjalista od przewrotów
upside down do góry nogami
photo by Cognitive Ambition
Was it actually for Me that you fasted? Zech 7:5
I started reading Isa 58 passage, and stopped on the last part of verse 3, where I camped for about… 6 hours. It starts with:
Behold, in the day of your fast
and then follows with (different translations)
you seek your own pleasure
you take the chance to do your business
you pursue your own business
you find your desire
you do as you please
to please yourselves
you think only of yourselves
you do what you want to do
your own will is found
The last one strucked me the most. It’s from Douay-Rheims translation. Fasting should be seeking God for Himself, not proving a point to others or God (which does not make sense anyway). It should afflict the soul, expressing true sorrow for sin, get away with pride, covetousness, malignant passions. Isa 22:13 points to indulging in sensuality and pursuing one’s own desires during fasting.
Affliction means: to be put down, become low, to be downcast, depressed, to stoop, to humble oneself, to be humiliated, to weaken oneself and submit. Afflicting should bring real pleasure and diminish our corrupt nature.
I need help. My own will must submit.
until the shadows flee away
raise me up to the firmness of your rare whispers
until the shadows flee away
offer me a breath formed out of the twisters of your never-ending life
until the shadows flee away
return my present to the past broken crystal tears
until the shadows flee away
collect every drop of shackled misery in your bottle of memories
i see the reflection of my-panicked-self
in the mirrored bare salted tears
why does it seem so drastically familiar
until i reach the crack leading to the sea of glass
hide me behind your muslin veil of presence
make a new label for the bottle
with a prolonged term of use
I thirst
You have kept record of my days of wandering.
You have stored my tears in your bottle and counted each of them.
Ps 56:8
perplexions of a heart immersed in unpredicted freedom
sight stunned by the infinite possibilities of creation’s wonders
innocent curiosity developing into contemplative art of searching
for the universe of life
so close by
so vast
photo by joanna eleanoremptiness inhabited by never fulfilled desires
crawled and twisted almost forgotten
catapulting from decades before
mixing times and seasons
troublesome space of dreamed fantastic accuracies
woven through dangerously attractive prophecies
how could that be
barren became a friendly soul
fading memories having the last chance of resurrecting
from distant horizons balancing upon the ocean of divine whispers
bringing me nearer
to this one thing
I will look toward the everlasting captivation
faintly but truly
I desire
photo by iwka ©
is what we experience the reality
or do we perceive only the reflection of the true life
living
breathing existence torn in between
struggles of wonderings
unleash my imagination
into holy contemplation
i want to soak in Your Being
dripping with myrrh which falls off like fragrant droplets of meekness
stepping from illusion
to the gate of humanity called into silence
deep calls to deep
© iwka
iwka.onething 