Diary Entry 71

In a barren desert,

I stand alone.

The vulgar winds

tarnish the ear

with their coarse tones.

A restrained sound –

that of some voice;

if I want to escape

this wretched earth

I’m now left with a choice.

A man approaches

wearing an expensive suite;

he offers me a drink,

thirsty and desperate,

I grab at his loot.

The glass is full,

opposite this land;

as I lift it to my mouth,

it tips and outward pours

the surrounding sands.

Angry, I cast

the cup at the man!

he laughs and smiles

thinking he’s gathered

me in the palm of his hand.

Far away I sense

another to come,

and in tattered rags

You approach us –

the man begins to run.

I still thirst, yet

You offer me not one sip,

just an outward reach,

and my hand to Yours

begins its tight grip.

Why do I no longer

yearn for that brew?

It’s like Your presence

satiated the dryness

that in me once grew.

Will that man again return

and try to tempt me?

Will You be in the distance

making the evil

from me flee?

Yes, he will come,

luring you once more,

but you must remember

what I now tell you

to fight the continuing abhor.

One will always thirst

surrounded by barren lands –

quenched not by some glass,

no, commend your needs

into My living hands.

He feeds on your desperation

for immediate remorse,

but your wanting desires

will never cease in the

efforts of his force.

Just wait and look

in the distance - a sight

not with filled cup or new suit,

just an old pierced hand

given to you outright.

The cup that I offer

is not easy to take part,

but it will always promise

to satiate the parched

thirst in your heart.



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