the beams that support

The clay crumbles beneath as our heavy boots scrape against the rocks. There is a long way to go as we ascend the slippery slope. Every step of the foot is a flip of the coin, every reach of the hand is a roll of the dice. We take our chances as they come. We fall when the gamble falls through. We push on, beyond all hope of turning back, yet short of the hope of standing on top. Fear is a constant, uncertainty is its foundation.

Will we ever hold the crown of victory? Are all things bleak? Do we climb for failure? Let us give up. I lack the zeal. I lack the will. Where does a Johnston stand in the grand scheme of things? Should I ever be needed? Let me rest, let me lie. Let the clouds roll by. I can live and I can die, and still the world will move around me.

As I look toward the summit, I see a hidden sun. Yet not even the mountain peak can mask its glory. The splendor of its rays reach out to the open skies. Far out and beyond, all the earth receives its warmth. My heart is filled with renewed courage. It beats again. Out of the heavens, come the ones with the same paths as mine own. Radiant with love, their faces are aglow. One goal. One vision. Their summit is none other than that of mine.

Sunbeams from heaven light our way. The light bounces off each crack and stone, surrounding me and filling me. With a palm upon my back and an arm linked in mine, I assail the ramparts. They are with me. Let none stop me! What could I have done alone? Yet now our steps are heard as one.

the heaviness of weariness

My head is heavy, my shoulders burdened. My worries weigh a ton, and my bothers bog me down. Life moves slowly along as I wade through the swamp. A swamp where I cannot see the end, and the beginning too is out of sight. This march is endless, it strains me. I am tired, my breath escapes me. Heavy. Heavy. Heavy. The load is heavy. A little more, and I would not bear. The end is never near, to hope I would not dare. How far is the road to liberty, my feet are worn and cannot hold. I struggle to move against the mud, like pushing against a stone. I move an inch by the hour, and the scenery does not change. I sigh and I pant, then I pant and I sigh. How much more do I have to go, against life’s tall obstacles. The knolls are high, and the valleys deep. The bush is thick and the roots hinder me. They trip me, and they hurt me. How long before I can lay down my jars, with burdens to the brim. Weary. Weary. Weary. My soul is weary.

Johnston

Is this a dream? Am I awake? Or merely lost in a story so torn apart by abstraction?

These days, I no longer smile the rented smile. There is only cheer in me. Like an unstoppable spring coming forth from my chest, such is my joy. It fills all the lakes of the earth, and floods the valleys. I can giggle, I can laugh, I can tap, I can dance. I can even do the whirls, but I cannot wipe this smirk off my face.

How silly I have become. Believing in the unknown, and hoping it will come true. My senses have been numbed by my absurdity. I can only see the colours of the new morning. I can only hear the songs of this enchantment. Sing to me, and let me be. My mind spends each waking moment by her side. My soul had long left me. All that is left is a mangled body hoping to do the same.

Perhaps now I understand a little more of what it means to lay heaven’s embroidered cloths before her feet. For all the riches under the sun would not suffice for the purchase of the gleam in her eye. Just let me be.

Notsnhoj

Who can restrain my unbridled heart? So full that all the deserts of the earth could not contain it.
Who can contain my rampant mind? With its endless wanderings by her side.

How I wish to embrace her very presence. To hold her hands and look into her eyes. To converse and laugh with her. To feel her joy and join in her merriment. Such fatuous thoughts! And yet, how they never cease to persist. From the morning to the evening, they torment me. But in my agony, I find sweet bliss. Who can stand against the tides of the heart? Each passing wave of emotion strikes ever stronger until we are powerless to resist!

Note that the author can neither comprehend nor fathom the very words that he writes. For his mind and his heart have never been very close associates.

And none of this makes any sense! Why should I be moved? Is it written somewhere? Perhaps in the Bible? No, there is not! Why should I have to abandon the happiness of my singularity? This is utterly unfair.

Despite that, I shall persist to the very end. Until we are old and toothless, and our hands to weak to touch.

For years I have averted my gaze. For years I have walked away. Why then do I find it so hard to do what I have done for years?

Have you heard her speak? Have you felt the merriment behind her laughter? Resist as you might, they shall fill your senses. Still you will grimace in joy. And shudder in bliss.

Is the heart weaker than the body? Do they not always say to push past your physical limits by sheer will-power alone? So how can I tell myself to hold fast against the wild winds of passion? Try as I might, my efforts are void, my strains to no avail. There is no way out of this mess. Only a path deeper into it.

How then shall I decline the longings of my heart? How can you ask me to avert my gaze? How can you tell me to walk away?

Engage me to her presence! Let me be!

If you saw what I saw and heard what I heard, would you be able to hold back your heart. I am standing on the edge of a mountain top. Listen to me. All my years of reservations are at the brink of falling apart. My heart and my soul have left me. How can I go against the tide of my own emotions? How can I keep what I have already lost?

Just seeing her smile would make you smile. But for her laughter, no other sound could move my heart. What a marvel! Is there a sweeter sight? Is there a sweeter sound? I could travel to the ends of the world, and then travel further beyond, yet I would not find. No Rose of Sharon could compare, nor Song of Bocelli. The Himalayas would bow in reverence, the nightingale would flee in shame. Then what of me? How could anyone command me, "Johnston, be still"? I would not! And I could not!

There is so much I could say, but so little I could put in words.

"Somehow I've fallen under your spell,
but somehow I'm feeling it's up that I fell."
(As long as you're mine - Wicked OST)

You Are My Life And Your Word Is My Sustenance

Father, you are beautiful beyond description. Peace sits at Your left hand, and joy at Your right. Happy are those who reside in Your presence. Better is one day in Your courts than thousands elsewhere.

Your ways and Your works amaze me without cease. My mind is small and my vision is narrow. But, Lord my God, You see all things, now and forevermore. Glory be to the Lord who provides for His people. Glory be to the Lord who loves His children.

Father, I thank You for Your Word. Your Word sustains me. It fills with my endless delight and song. Immersed in it, I draw closer to you. Without it, I am a wreck, without direction.

I thank You, Father, that each time I set my eyes in the right direction, You are already there waiting for me. I am slow to understand, and prone to failure. Lord, please be patient with me. My flesh is weak, but so is my will. Father, renew me.


Johnston