The Hidden Hours

So here's the timeless issue and Yeats describes it well. Written verse/poetry ought to sound like it is in the moment, spoken right off the tongue in an instantaneous firing of brain activity. But the reality is no one sees the hours that go into forming it, or if that's not the case, the struggle and doubt of the artist to preserve his or her own voice.

Yeats writes (from Adam's Curse):

I said: "A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these, and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
The martyrs call the world."

I haven't always been able to write lines of intimacy and desire for the Father. Not that they're great or anything...I'm just saying that they're real to me for this time. It's just the season I'm in: simplicity in wanting Him. A couple of years ago Loretta prayed for me in internship because she said I was being harassed by a tormenting spirit. She said I would be able to redeem the time. And I wrote a bunch of stuff following that day. Let's see what I can find. Please hold.

Phantoms:

Thought he had me awakening to the nails
I lay there while they dig a little closer to my heart
If pain is what I sought it's what I breathe
Inhale it like a drug wait for the reward

Don't mind your amputation cut it off
I'm still here and I'm not moving
Take it all I'm not resisting

Tired of sleeping in a pool of blood
It's not even mine should have said that
Smells like the color's going dull it leaked
2000 years ago I'm just feeling phantoms


Pain My Antidote:

I've read it all before a page-turner to the end
and then You're there through whatever end
I'm not sure I want it again
It's something beyond description
beyond the stripping of my mortal skin
Something you must have felt among the dust and emptiness

A thirsty seed dying in your hands
I don't know what it'll become
exceed the sight of his recluse form
the bite that begun the antidote comes

I've read it all but it's not quite the same
and I wouldn't want it to be ever the same
Wasn't sure I wanted it again
But if this has to go I'll let it be
until something reshapes black misery
I saw you move over a shadow
here among dust and emptiness


We Walked Together

If I run will it follow
If I know I should stand
break these fears and let them crumble
But I'm loosing this war
for the right to see right
I can't hold onto what you said
Did you even say it and did you mean it
When does a fight become a massacre
Leave me in its wake
Just don't leave me

If I forget this old friend
If I turn around before
we lock fingers and it becomes a part of me
Do I stand still
because there's nothing to step on
Or am I somehow blind
begging for scraps when I could have a feast
Is it stealing my fortune
Telling me to blame you
I guess it was never that big
because you never left me

It might seem as great as the night sky
hidden in the dark, numbers like the stars
But you'll hand them over to me
Smile at my hesistant ferocity
And when I'm backed down again
Teach me to get a little angry
To command it fall at my feet

Thank you for your time. He is so faithful. Perhaps I shall return a little later. Until then...