I can’t run any more. I can’t chase You down any more. I’ve been running and running and running like it’s a marathon, and not just a 26 mile marathon, but a 26 year marathon, and I’m so tired. So very tired.
I realize You don’t owe me anything. I know that. I hate that, but I know it.
Part of me is just constantly wanting to cast off the shackles of this life. The other part is holding on like there’s no tomorrow.
There is nothing but You. You dole Yourself out weekly, or even daily (when I can stand it) as a little white Host. You are there, in my heart, which has got to be the most worthless hovel You have ever created. It’s dirty and a hot mess in there, Lord, and yet You stop by all the time, wanting to hang out.
And even though You’re there, right there, and it doesn’t get any realer than You being there, in the flesh; the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity; I’m still a hot mess.
Honestly, I think I’m getting hotter and messier.
I feel like I’m chasing You, but it’s clear that You’re the hunter and I am the prey.
Wound me now, and stop my worthless, aimless running away.
Catch me, quick, before I change my mind.