Tire of Speaking Sweetly

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly,
And wants to rip to shreds all of our erroneous notions of truth
that make you fight within yourself
Causing the world to weep on too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice his dropkick
The Beloved sometimes needs
To do us a great favor,
Hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out

For awhile I didn't know, didn't really care, wasn't impressed but got distracted. Then for a long time I wondered and believed the good feelings were enough. I thought of all the situations and how I would react knowing that none of the plans would actually play out how I prepared for. As my suspicions grew, my perspective cleared. Though I knew what I really wanted, the actual act of accepting the other reality did settle softly.

It's a silent battle that we march in, God places a little chant here and there to keep us going. Sometimes we see the blows coming and take them well, other times we set ourselves up for danger, and sometimes we just don't see it and it smacks you right down. Companionship isn't protection, but I know it can be happiness. So I brush off the dirt, record the lesson learned and say, march on. march on.