Losing God, Finding Faith

I waited, I prayed.

I held me breath, I exhaled.

In the good times I thanked,

In the bad, I repented.

Forgive me.

Show me.

I prayed.

Just show me.

You found freedom, when you could no longer deny His existence.

The irony.

I found freedom, when I stopped denying my resistance.

The day I wrote down those words.

I don’t believe.

I don’t believe.

The day I removed that cross, my chest could breathe.

The day I found freedom, was the day I found faith.

And I sat across from him,

He asked am I spiritual?

I looked back, into the eyes of a man, judgement burning from me.

Upon me.

What does it mean?

Spiritual?

I stumbled upon my words.

As I tried to define a word in attempt to define my faith.

I believe we are one.

I believe in us.

I am naive, and I believe there could be peace.

And amidst my beliefs, I wonder.

I wonder.

Why am I here? Where does my puzzle piece lay?

I seek purpose.

And I wonder.

I create purpose with my words.

Are they His words?

Then His words are mine.

And then I am God.

But you speak too,

Aw the Gods that run the planet.

And they sing.

And they roar.

But we don’t understand them.

So we destroy, and we claim.

Yet I believe, there is something greater than destruction.

Something better than the death of your God, the death of mine.

For mine died the day, the day yours was born.

You found freedom, when you could no longer deny His existence.

The irony.

I found freedom, when I stopped denying my resistance.