Fatal Attraction

"There is no fear of God before his eyes." David the sheperd (Psalm 36)

The plague of consumption with oneself brings forth wickedness without tension. Eventually life loses its attraction. What is it we are thinking? Dark divinations and rueful musings which only serve to feed one's morbid addictions. It is abhorrent, we are abhorrent. What was David thinking? Of whom was he speaking? At one time was it himself? The looking glass is dangerously reavealing.

In horror he fled. Fled from the emptiness and the dread. He fled from himself. I suppose we will never know of whom David spoke. Still flee he does, whether from himself or some other sininster personality. He finds solace in the attractiveness of God. The simplicity of home, the sound of a fast running stream. It is the land. The sure mercies of God, hidden in the cleft of that rocky cragg. The Son of man, that high and lofty mountain.

There is fulfillment for those who run to the hills, who drink from the pure river of life. To be satisfied and yet needing more. Aaahh, the tension. You can breathe again, feel again, live (maybe for the first time). We taste life in him, for he is our life. He is the life in which we live. There is the tension. For to see is to understand. To hear is to grasp. To feel is to tremble. To know oneself in him is to be painfully aware that beyond the comforting glow of a porch light that tells you you're home is a darkness that waits. It will wait all night. It has embraced the virtue of patience.

From whence cometh the light? The day star rising in our hearts? We make our plea, we cry for divine provision. "Let not the foot of pride come against me." Our prayers for patron saints, guardian angels and the frayed rosary which scrawls across the dashboard. Prayer becomes more than words. It is the tension which which fights for life in a world of decadence and decay. Each sigh is a winged prayer that we just might get some sleep tonight. Sola Gracia, WHB