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.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005


I am jealous of nature. It has it's seasons, the winter comes and the winter goes. The spring comes and the spring goes. The summer comes and the summer goes. The fall comes and the fall goes. Yet my season has no change.

I am angry at myself.I could blame others, I could point the finger I suppose. I could say that the hand of others has pushed me down. I could say the words of others has bruised my soul. I could say the actions of others has beaten my back. I could say the tongue of man has become this shackle.

I am tired. I have grown weary, and I have hung my harp upon the willow. My feet, they are sore from walking and my legs they are worn from standing. I look at my knees and they are bruised from kneeling.

I am dying. I feel life leaving my body. I feel it's source of strength becoming dry. I fear not death, I fear not it's angel. I say to thee, let thy kiss be upon my head, let thy breath breathe upon my ears.

I am scared. I do worry, how will I find my way back? If I am lost then who will find me? I think man has grown weary of me, their silence speaks more now than their counsel.

I am cold. I cannot find warmth for my soul. I have placed it's wood carefully upon the altar, yet I have come to believe that He will not find me in time. I did journey into the forest, I did labor at finding wood. I held it far from me, so my sorrow would not rot it, nor my tears to cease it's burn.

I am finished. I cried unto Him and asked that He would quickly come. I then turned to Him to see if He had followed, yet He did not move. My voice I lifted even higher.... "Just send thy word, and it will be done" Yet He did not speak nor send His sparrow, He just caused the waters to cease.


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