Small Dreams May Never Come True

Small dreams may never come true
Never turn up black and blue.
Never do people dare to tread carefree waters and cross thresholds
To seek fulfillment of undying desires, unspoken wishes.
Never do we seek life and vitality,
We simply wittle away at the dry barks of our imagination
Trying to squeeze out a drop of encouragement
To work with
To flirt with
To cultivate from it a reason to live, to love,
To bear the existence of self any longer than we need to.
I would love for you to give me a cause
One to fight for, one to ruin myself for
Give me a reason Lord to suffer the inexcusable pit of human decadence
When does this end? This need to self-satisfy at every corner of life?
To fulfill desires until there is nothing left but an urge to hurl
To think so obsessively about ourselves until the rest of the world blurs out of focus
And does not matter anymore.
Where our desires take precedence over others and yet we complain how no one else loves us
Since when self-expression is taken to mean narcissism
We have molded our ears shut so we never have to hear humanity again
We only listen to ourselves, our music, our needs, our wants.
We cannot even bear silence or stillness
Since it holds up a mirror to our grotesque images which
Narcissus never had eyes to see.
We have lost the ability to think rationally.
We seem unable to think two steps ahead of our current desires
To see its consequences on not only ourselves but those around us as well
We have forgotten that true love is a selfless one
That it has nothing to do with rings, flowers, chocolates and money
That all of that only plays a mere accessory to our daily acts of selfless love, kindness and trust;
That love is a verb, it was meant to be acted out, not simply talked about idealistically
Not simply taken without giving;
That love may just happen, but its a trade that must be perfected and repeatedly used until it becomes second nature, a tool sharp enough to cut deep even as it simply grazes skin.
Perhaps we have begun to feel comfortable in our own selfish filth that we no longer feel the need to reflect on our lives, our ambitions, our goals
To take time out of our oh-so-busy lives to make room for the joy of another?
I wonder why that is-  do we feel that to focus on another may steal our spotlight? That their joy would take away from ours? That to love another means to love ourselves less?
Since when have we let ourselves become so deluded with such an elvated sense of self worth that we can barely go a day without hearing about how nice we are, how pretty we are, how useful we are.
Since when did we start expecting appreciation for things we should be doing anyway?
We complicate our own lives, flock to drama and then complain about the miserable existence we created.
And so Lord, as I kneel before you, a little more defeated than usual by the weary world, a little more hurt by inconsiderate words,
I ask for your strength, to keep going, to keep loving, to be as good a person as I’d want another to be to me.
Help me Lord…it isn’t as easy as it sounds.