morning pages 1.5.09

(listening to the album leaf, tim huges, hilsong united.)

pardon the randomness of my thoughts. this is how i go about songwriting.

today already i have been wondering about cosmetology. the schooling and mastering of cosmetics. the ability to make someone look different than they really truly do.

but where do we cross the line?

i think we are all masters of cosmetology. but not in a traditional sense of make up and hair, but in the sense of our personalities. when we fake happy. when we make every conscience attempt to assure to everyone that we are doing just fine. but when looked at in reality. we are not fine. we are lacking something. sometimes it may be neurological. sometimes it may be spiritual. sometimes it may be mental. sometimes it may be physical. but when it all comes down to it...we lack the one thing we are faking.

i feel a cosmetic happiness right now.

and i want to fix that.

when praise is no longer a task is it a habit?

when worship is no longer remembering the melody for the words on the screen is it an intrinsic trait? (what is coming next is called morning pages. it is something i do in the morning and it is when i just write what is on my heart, with my internal editor off. and i decided this morning to do it here so you can see what goes into what i write. it may seem like an incoherent mess, but this is where i start, so no judging.)

am i hopeless?
am i restless?
am i tired?
am i empty?
am i weak?
am i alone?
when does it all stop?
when does it all stop?
the hope of nations
the grace of God
the love of one
the love everyone
be my hope.
when the morning shines
and the night hides away
i will know where to find
the reason why i sing
when the evening fades
and the night begins
i will know my refuge
in the king of all days

so within the balance of life and love, where do we take in account pain? wen do we take in account the loss of a friend? when do we take in account when a friend turns away from something you know?

when life is to much to take
and love gains to little
how can i know you are real?
when cultures battle
and nations fight
how can i know you are there?

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