You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more 'drive,' or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or 'creativity.' In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful. (C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man, "Men Without Chests")
A certain ruler asked him,
“Good teacher,
what must I do
to inherit eternal life?”
“Why do you call me good?”
Jesus answered.
“No one is good—
except God alone." (Luke 18:18-19)
I have my reasons
I have my drives
But I have no purpose
Just a will to survive
I thought happiness
would be enough, you see
but my world collapsed
to a ruined heap
Then happiness fled
like a shadow
the fleeting shadow
it had always been
Then I knew my purpose
with its reasonable reasons
could not stand on its own
No shadow can
I found the hole
in my middle
where a heart
should be
I found an absence
where such shadows are born
illusions of happy
from unliveable dreams
Then, like turning
over a rock
I saw something
underneath
The darkness
was not the bottomless
pit it promised
but a door
A door promises
something more
a way through
the darkness
but not around
and happiness
would not let
me enter
Only surrender could
make me give it up
for a time
so I could hear
gentle knocking
at the back of my mind
another reason
another will to find
I knew I'd rather
be miserable
in your arms
than chasing dreams
that I own
I thought that
being held close
kept me tied down
but it was living
with such fear of pain
that held me
transfixed and immobile.
In your hand
I am broken open
not apart
I am broken in
not crushed flat
In your hand
pain has its place
in this heart you hold
so the head sees rightly
the feet stand firmly
where joy and peace abide
and where both pain and happiness
are welcome guests
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