I hardly know what to write. My world is spinning in a tornado of color all around me. And there I am. Standing in the middle. Lost, clueless, and confused. As usual. I see things that are beautiful. That catch my breathe. But in an instant, they're gone. And the chaos around me never takes that form again. It's strange and confusing, but oh so beautiful at the same time. At moments, it all moves in slow motion. And it's in those moments that I see things I never saw before. Things I never imagined. How do I understand this madness? How do I even accept the fact that I'm standing in it? That it's my world?
These questions I can never answer. But I move on. As I face the inevitable world that lays before me, that tornado of color is never far from my thoughts. Within it is where I feel safe. It is where I feel comfortable. But nobody understands. Nobody sees what I see. God is fearfully beautiful in those moments. When it's only Him and I, and no one else. Just the fact that no one understands isolates us into a beautiful world where we have the freedom to make entirely our own.
But then I need to return. Life continues, and nobody realizes where I'm coming from. Nobody understands that I walk in a garden of the most entrancing beauty every morning. I have to eat. I have to sleep. I talk to people at church, in the store, and none of them know. Why can't they know? Why can't they see it too?
But my world is my world, and I simply realize that everyone's secret place is different. However, I always selfishly feel that mine is the best.
These questions I can never answer. But I move on. As I face the inevitable world that lays before me, that tornado of color is never far from my thoughts. Within it is where I feel safe. It is where I feel comfortable. But nobody understands. Nobody sees what I see. God is fearfully beautiful in those moments. When it's only Him and I, and no one else. Just the fact that no one understands isolates us into a beautiful world where we have the freedom to make entirely our own.
But then I need to return. Life continues, and nobody realizes where I'm coming from. Nobody understands that I walk in a garden of the most entrancing beauty every morning. I have to eat. I have to sleep. I talk to people at church, in the store, and none of them know. Why can't they know? Why can't they see it too?
But my world is my world, and I simply realize that everyone's secret place is different. However, I always selfishly feel that mine is the best.
