"Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope"
I used to try to believe in greater things, in the master's hand. But lately, these fanciful notions have been soundly beaten out of me. Not that I would deny the remarkable (laughable?) perseverance of hope, but I can say that it seems in short supply these days. Perhaps I would've found myself in this place no matter which road I had taken; I don't know. But in this, the only life I know, I have a pretty strong suspicion as to the decisions that precipitated such a remarkable fall from grace. Speaking of which, I'll soon be attempting an exit from this spiritual prison, and some people assume it's a cause for celebration. Hah. What's the sense in celebrating as you sit bereft of even a spark of life? Some say that all said and done, survival is by itself a great feat, one to be proud of. Perhaps for most, but not for me. You and I know how I managed to stay afloat for so long. By stopping to believe, and embracing the nihilist I once thought I had conquered. (As if!) Indeed, my victory has been so pyrrhic that one may conclude I take pleasure in watching myself fall. Not entirely true. But I think I did always expect heavenly arms to reach out and lift me away. I'm not saying I deserve it, or that I am surprised (in hindsight) that it is a dream that came to naught. Only that I have learned all too well the truth in the saying that it is challenges that bring out the real you. Yup, we've all seen what it is I'm made of. And what a terrifying sight it is.
Because I do not hope"
I used to try to believe in greater things, in the master's hand. But lately, these fanciful notions have been soundly beaten out of me. Not that I would deny the remarkable (laughable?) perseverance of hope, but I can say that it seems in short supply these days. Perhaps I would've found myself in this place no matter which road I had taken; I don't know. But in this, the only life I know, I have a pretty strong suspicion as to the decisions that precipitated such a remarkable fall from grace. Speaking of which, I'll soon be attempting an exit from this spiritual prison, and some people assume it's a cause for celebration. Hah. What's the sense in celebrating as you sit bereft of even a spark of life? Some say that all said and done, survival is by itself a great feat, one to be proud of. Perhaps for most, but not for me. You and I know how I managed to stay afloat for so long. By stopping to believe, and embracing the nihilist I once thought I had conquered. (As if!) Indeed, my victory has been so pyrrhic that one may conclude I take pleasure in watching myself fall. Not entirely true. But I think I did always expect heavenly arms to reach out and lift me away. I'm not saying I deserve it, or that I am surprised (in hindsight) that it is a dream that came to naught. Only that I have learned all too well the truth in the saying that it is challenges that bring out the real you. Yup, we've all seen what it is I'm made of. And what a terrifying sight it is.
