Patmos Isle

The life of a Pastor, one who has been beaten and left to die by his own kind.

Location: Texas, United States

I consider myself as one that has seen the dark side of humanity and has lived to speak of it.

Saturday, April 30, 2005

3rd Eye

Why is it that when you face one trial after the other, you begin to start looking at everything with this 3rd eye.

The eye that when everything that happens you try to see it as some spiritual circumstance. You try to make this ordinary thing as something that could have only come from the backside of a desert.

I am finding more and more that there is a grace, a grace that causes one to rest, even when his back is against a bed of nails. It seems as of late, that either the nails have grown dull or my skin has become tough. I pray that the nails have become dull, crazy thinking I know, yet I would rather remain tender and hurt, than to become this piece of lifeless flesh.

I would like to say that I can see the good, because I always tell others, God will cause all things to be for your good. Yet, I see dimly, I see a mist, a haze, and I continue to wait for something to come from it. I sit and wait, thinking that this bright light, or figure will form and come forth. Yet I think my waiting will only produce a restless heart.

I do wonder, I do call out, I do let my thoughts become words, yet for some reason that is all they have become is words. I would hope that somehow they would become solutions to my situation, yet I almost wonder, in a sick kind of way, do I want my situation to end. I fear that the result of this magic trick, will produce nothing of value, that I won't at the end, have something to show others.

I guess a scar would be nice, I have one on my forehead, I have one on my hand, I have one on my wrist, I have one on my chest, I have one on my stomach, I have two on my leg. Yet it seems like this one on my soul, it just opens wide, yet nothing comes from it.

I had this dream.... I was laying in this box, and above me was this man in a hat, he spoke to the crowd... "For my next act, I am going to cut this preacher in 1/2, I recall seeing the blade come down, and I even recall this stabbing pain in my side, yet when he goes to separate the box, nothing has happened, he shakes his head and looks me in the eye, and says.... Not even I can break you"

I feel that way... I think... If I could just break, then I could heal. If I could just be crushed, then I could be mended, If I could but just disappear, then well, no, I don't think I would re-appear.


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