People believe in things.
They are always after something to believe in,
Something to trust…
A crystal hanging off of their rearview mirror,
Or a crucifix on their chest, to say they’re Christian.
But things is what all of these are, after all.
Nothing more, nothing less…
Soulless, hollow representations
Of a faith we have that life will turn around,
That the world will become a better place.
But things cannot bring what we left behind,
What God gave us,
In a time that we almost don’t recall now
Because we weren’t even aware of it.
Things just reflect the emptiness we carry around like a snail with its shell,
And we should not try to make them home for our souls…
Only in a higher being will we find the comfort we lost so long ago.
(composed when listening “Stream of Dreams” by Dan Gibson, on the way back home)