My Struggle

There are things that change, with time;
things that turn into part of one's own nature,
things that never perish, and remain, undefeated,
as if they were not fighting at all.
But there are other things, much more complicated things,
which are so hard to cope with,
and one wakes up each day, hoping that
something different will come our way,
and scare that thing away,
that thing that when near seems as if it's eating
away our hearts, and devouring our patience,
meekness, wisdom.
What good is it to be wise when no one seems to notice,
no one seems to react,
no one seems to be affected by it,
but us,
the creators of something that after a while
begins to seem imaginative.
So we make the choice of prolonging our suffering...
and our loneliness because God is our witness that
we are indeed right,
that people are just blind- or make themselves blind- and they will
somehow wake up, and change, if we persevere.
But then, we also have the choice
of shutting up, and cowardly abandon the struggle,
and our feelings begin to flee,
because you see, there's nothing to keep us alive now.
This thing we're trying to prove,
this thing that we are absolutely, positively sure about,
is what makes us wake up every day.
So we die and suicide our thoughts and our feelings.

But I'm thinking, God! there are so many who didn't see what they worked for
come to pass, so many were ignored,
all kinds of people.
Jesus, Martin Luther King, Joan Of Ark, etc.
And it wasn't until their death that they accomplished
their purpose.
So I'm thinking I should fight,
until my eyes become so wasted that I can't glaze at the light of day.
I only wish I was that strong.

People think that I want to be recognized.
I just want everyone to be ok.
So many people want to prize me,
they want to sell me, show me off.
I have no interest whatsover.
See, I just want you to be changed,
to be affected by me,
in the good way.
That you become a greater encourager and teacher,
much greater than I could ever be.
But if your plan is to put me on display,
so that everyone can see how pretty I look,
and ignore the meaning of my words.
Then, no thanks.
I'd rather die writing things like this on my blog,
and see things that only I can see,
expressing what only I can understand,
and my own Author, who made me, who
has been misunderstood as well.

A la gente no le interesa el cambio, solo la polémica, y eso me ha matado poco a poco las ganas. Porque saber no es lo mismo que creer.