In.

Out.

In.

Out.

One breath.

Another one.

That’s what I’m telling myself,

As I’m bombarded with

Outrageously unattainable

Standards

So pointless they might as well de dander.

These so called standards,

Telling us what we have to do.

But that isn’t me;

That isn’t you.

The atmosphere is clouded in here,

And getting lost in it is something I fear.

It gets harder to breathe,

Harder to see,

Harder to be,

And eventually,

Everything

Is so chaotically

Overwhelming

That the only choice for me,

To even crack an ounce of caring from my being

Is to lay on the ground,

Screaming.

There is not enough time,

I realize.

Not enough passion.

Not enough perseverance.

Not enough confidence

In myself

To succeed the so desperately desired standards

We put on our shoulders;

These heavyweight boulders,

Pushing us further

Than we intend to.

Looking around,

It’s hard to believe there is a point to all this;

A point that I intend not to miss.

The questions we ask,

So meaningless and off-task.

Will this get me where I need to go?

Will my life move forward?

Will all this crap we’re going through;

Will it even budge the boulder

That keeps us from doing what we are meant to do?

There is no one on this earth today,

Who will be the one to make these though times fade.

But you know what?

All the things we strive for,

All the things that bore

A hole in our hearts;

The things that have no satisfaction,

Not one fraction of who we are

Define us.

No human completes you.

No human can ultimately save you.

I wouldn’t be telling you

If it wasn’t a hundred percent true.

You want the truth to be pretty,

To give you that butterfly feeling

Because you thought you were so

Award-winning.

But it’s not just you,

It’s me too.

I’m nothing special.

I’ve said nothing.

I’ve written nothing.

I’ve thought nothing

Because I am not my own.

Christ paid the price

And I am his.

You can’t just joke about these truths

What I’m telling you,

The world won’t.

We are nothing.

We have nothing to bring,

Nothing to take.

We must stop being fake

And pick up the rake

To clean all the waste

We’ve so carelessly casted away.

The only man

Who can make us worth something

Is Christ,

The one who paid the price,

Gave up his life

For you and I.

He won’t bring you popularity.

He won’t bring you easy-way-outs.

He will bring you fulfillment.

Escape from this world’s self-sufficient climate.

He is the answer.

The one who will help us no longer fester

In the world’s standards.

Because of Him we are adored

And can now find comfort

Of his holy arms when he feel worn.

With Him

We will be unashamed,

Unplayed by the standards of today

And the world’s dark games.

Now.

We no longer desperately long for rest

Because of the need and desire for success.

Now.

We are something.

We have something to bring.

We are real.

We feel.

There are no longer standards,

Just God in all his glory,

Shining

And writing us in his story.