Writing the mistakes that You will erase,
Before tearing away that things that I crave,
Til all there is is You
I've been here before but I cannot explain,
This cold in my heart that I cannot replace,
Or the reasons I chase that things that I hate,
Til all there is is You.
- Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
- where there is hatred, let me sow love;
- where there is injury, pardon;
- where there is doubt, faith;
- where there is despair, hope;
- where there is darkness, light;
- and where there is sadness, joy.
- O Divine Master,
- grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
- to be understood, as to understand;
- to be loved, as to love;
- for it is in giving that we receive,
- it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
- and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
A process in which the end can be justified by the means, though the means will always be more gradual than anyone would care to possess or admit.
For it seems that growth happens just slow enough so much you can't see it moving. Be it a little faster and perhaps I could be satisfied. But no, it's like being so thirsty, and having a full glass of water in front of you, and a straw the width of a toothpick.
Eventually, this water will be mine... but what a slow and painful process it is...
I long for the day that I wake up, and see and say,
here we are,
you've made it.