Song Of Confusion

I am like a tree, while my nerve is a flying bird that glides as far as, as free as, as long as, it is willing. Then it perches again on to my mind. Its uncertain movements make me nervous. It hurts to be nervous. But, I am sure it is always like what Johanna Spryi said in Heidi: God postpones our prayer to make us ready.

Sometimes I think I have been completely ready to accept any provision. But then I realize that I am a weak creature that needs much time and much energy from the Source to digest any single natural rule being granted to me. And cry then I will. Then sob I will. Longing for divine touch.

Perhaps it is escapism; however, I can’t do anything because it is so much needed to escape sometimes.

God… How can I heal myself when there is no way I can take except one way out to escape?

Escape I can’t rely on forever. It is a fake way out in fact…

Guide me…

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