Seated at my desk, I wait for the words to flow as answers to my worries and questions. I hope for enlightenment and revelation that starves all my fears and doubts about my life. I pray for genius to strike my fingers like bolts of electricity. I want to hear the keyboard clatter beneath my fingertips and see the brahminic message of certainty appear on my computer screen...
I wish it were so simple. To ask for divine intervention in a life, I feel I've mis....lived? Mislived? Yes!
Mislived with acts of impulsive childishness.
Mislived with deeds left undone and promised for tomorrow.
Mislived with rash declarations and angry volitions.
Mislived with too much sadness and not enough joy.
Mislived with too many emotions and not enough logic.
To ask for divine intervention in a life....MY life....one that I've mislived and get the answers so calmly and so easily. My life decades over, I pray to an Unknown to interrupt this life of misliving; and I sit naively at my desk thinking the coherent words of what to do next will surface on my conscious and form beneath my fingertips.
For it to be so?! Mistaken, am I.
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