My Lost Puppet Master - Written

The goal of faith is knowing a believing that we need to be saved, and that there is a savior.

But God, where are you?
   

Knowing you is like knowing the sun. I believe because I see the effects of it.

Light touching. Life giving.


Dangerously, powerfully, sustaining.


I knew you once.    

Like the sun.

But you have yet to rise again.


Now I'm waiting in the dark.

I'm waiting for your movement.

The night seems like an eternity when there is no rest.

The silence is bone crushing when there is no sound.


God.

Was this what I signed up for when I gave my life to you?

This and only this?


I am your servant God.

But when will you move? When will you answer my pleading?


I am merely a marionette waiting on its puppet master.

I am waiting to be lifted by the strings that are tied to me.

The very connection between you and my soul.

My being.

My life.



I am desperate to be pulled in the direction I need. Waiting for my very life to be

orchestrated by the creator himself.


But I can not move until the master moves.

My strings become chains.

Bending me and holding me down until breathing becomes painful.

Until my whole body burns and swells with the lack of motion.


God this position hurts!

Are you even there?

Why can't I move?


Have you shoved this old useless doll back into the closet?

Have you thrown me into the dirt?



Trampled.

Neglected.


The longing inside me to be free is what is destroying me!


I try to turn it off. To rip out my very heart. To flee and yank myself free of my strings.

Holding me still.

Lifeless puppet. Songless dancer. Soulless soldier.


Why give me strength when you're holding me down?

Why have a life but not be alive?




Others have cut their ties to you.

Flailing around freely with no direction.



Shadows of lost people looking down on me.



Kicking me further to the side.

Believing they have more power in their freedom, when all they are is an empty soul.


How can they think to live without you?

Live lost and dead?


But I envy their broken freedom!

Forbidden privileges are my home.

I wear joy as a ghost on my body.

Dead, but I drag this carcass along.


I have to pretend to be strong.

They hear my laugh but not my screams.

They see my smile but not my tears.


I am a lost broken kite in a tree. Waiting for its flyer.

Tattered by the wind.

Destroying myself in meaningless existence.


I am a bird thrown to the ground from the very start. Born without wings.

I am a caterpillar that won't transform.

A tree with no fruit.


Wounds left open are harder to be healed.

Hear my cries O, Lord!

I refuse to live in this state!

Waiting on you.

My puppet master.

My life and direction.



So I cut a few strings...

The movement is freeing and I think I begin to enjoy it.

I indulge in this rebellion.

But the strings only end up coming to snap back.

Sharp.

I realize all I'm doing is falling!

Becoming tangled.

Strangled.

Hurt.

What is supposed to grant me ability is now so restricting.

It ties me up, cutting into my skin!


As I prance around in my lost indulgence I begin to become more broken.

More shattered.

I begin to defile myself among the poisonous freedoms of the world.


I think I want the strings to go away.

I see them as chains.

Slave to purpose.

I think I just want this all to end and disappear, but I only long for a new beginning.


I cannot move on my own!

I have learned that there is no joy in freedom without my kite flyer.

No joy without waiting for my wings.


But I am now broken.

I am infected by the hurt in the world.

All I know now is loneliness.

Pain.

Where are you God?

This position hurts!


The curtains are not rising but my show has already started!


I am here crying but you still haven't wiped away my tears.

My wounds are still open.

My suffering is no secret to you.

I'm still locked away.

I've tried running away from this, but all I want is you.

You have a purpose for me.

Right?

A script somewhere?


But I am wasting away.


The goal of faith is knowing and believing that I can and will be saved.

You put me here, and I have gone and broken myself.


Infected by sin.

Misdirected.

Impatient.

Corrupted by my selfishness.

This position hurts!

Where are you God?

Can you not hear my cries?

Do you not see my pain?