Unshackled

There is something appealing
to the evenness, the perfection and predictability
of living someone else’s life,
of succumbing to their design
and losing yourself in the safety of it.

There is something appealing in that surrender,
but where is the art in it? The adventure?
Where is the pain and pleasure, the magic
of no longer allowing others to play God,
but listening to his voice yourself
and singing harmony to his creation,
no longer a spectator,
but a glorious, dangerous creator
in a glorious, messy life
all your own.

About this poem.

I don’t believe in living a borrowed life, or a borrowed faith. It feels safe, but truly, it isn’t.

Tom