Sick and sad,

already broken or

I’d be breaking bad.

But still, 

what if I

took a sabbatical

and tested myself?

Solomon is the example.

He knew that life under the sun

is all vanity, but indulged

only for a moment in pleasure and fun.

All the while he watched 

with his wisdom intact

to discover if

nothing is worth it, in fact.

I know the answer,

as did the wisest man.

But I need to feel

something.

I’ve got to find a way to become

someone.

This tame existence is killing me.

My dreams are dammed up,

my desires are pent up,

and lust must be damned out.

But I’ve got to break free

from this boring little life

before I waste away.

Everyone loves

the Prodigal.

His return was celebrated

his story told and retold,

while the responsible son

tended sheep out in the cold.

I wait and wait and wait and wait,

my heart is sick

from hope deferred

and unfulfilled longing.

When, O when

will I reach the heights

I thought God called me to

back then, at a time when

everything seemed possible.

When can I be fulfilled again?

Over half my life is gone

and still I wait.

I suppose I’ll be like 

Abraham

rather than Solomon.

Restore to me the joy

of my salvation.