Coming out
Into the world,
After a sure start
With nowhere to go now
Almost choking
At being an adult
Living life,
As it was laid out
By nature and nurture
Unfazed by my own religion
Or the world outside,
Never talked
To the guy upstairs
But living used to be sacred,
Is now all but sacrilege
If it were always
My plan versus his
I never stood a chance
But there's a sense
Of burdened freedom
Along with a sense
Of joyful realism
To be happy
any chance you get,
A fine ventriloquist
He's got his ways
Makes you admire
The work he does,
While pondering
The meaning of life,
The fine line
Between right and wrong,
Trying to get some
sense of control
Thinking of pulling
One up on my destiny
Of saving my soul
Not selling out
To this facade
Of what we call progress
But maybe I should
Just stay a while
And enjoy this blissful anaesthesia,
Monitored by the man himself.
Does God always have a plan, good or bad? Or can we be in the driving seat for a change?
Maybe it is a mixture of both - my faith in his ways and my faith in myself, that will be the answer to the questions I've been pondering.
