Look Up! Look Up!
From the unfeeling eye of the almighty Screen Savior, the “empathic failure” maker, the antiseptic civility of the meditator, and power down, power down the ambition to stay cool in the face of this orchestrated temptation to become: Robosapien.
Depressed! Depressed!
Is the soul, with this sexy reluctance, to sink into our hurtable humanness, pump prayer into the paper-thin sac of yearning and dread, and make well-fed, the alien Heart-form pulsing like a jelly fish through an ocean blood red, home of the eternal godhead.
It’s slaughter! It’s slaughter!
Not returning to the bigoted backwater, the dysfunctional hometown that so faithfully Fedex’d our birth chart, encoded God’s demand to sit at the feet of our stories, make friends with the health-bestowing wounds and glories, and break bread with the billions of other eyes glued to this dystopian road movie, narrated by a voice (subversive, whispery) that sublimely destroys the lonely joys of techy toys so the technology of holy poise can outshine the anorexic gimmickry.
We’re Demigods! We’re Demigods!
Unstuck-in-time, enough to let the brokenness shine, turn cheap calamity into sublime, initiation, as the needle of now injects its nursery rhyme into the shoulder of not-young-not-older, un-murdering the mystery by feeling the misery of gossiping with the dirtiest politician in history: comprehensibility.
~Hunter Reynolds
Like this? Then you’ll love: Brave New Prayers
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