F is for failure

Failure to comprehend .... failure to reason. I'm left left in a quagmire of rhymes with ship. While God spells out clearly the plainness that we all breathe, we all live, we all fight for each breath, each moment on Earth. Why then do I fight God on every issue? Ah! Ego supersedes reason. I am hating the daily death of beloved, wholly or in pieces. I hate, not dislike, the careless disregard for people who participate in life ... in others, the downtrodden, the forgotten.

God, why?

I spit in God direction, which is anywhere. I think ... God also created.
I am a quilt ... join pieces into a layer to warm and comfort others.

Fart, fudge or any other replacement for profanity. I find that hate and hell fits me better than Heaven could offer. Never have I tried the passion, but I hear it is off the rack. I desire -- Hell awaits with that -- for the Hell that is married to married to my hate, my human nature of selfishness and me. God help me .... I cannot do what is meant for me ... what God timidly requests of me.

God, Jesus, generous in all ... I deny Him in seeking a finer, easier way that meets my fury, my wild, unsaddled horse. Like the derby -- all things die like my soul -- eternally with my illness.

I ill, my preference for Hell ... for me ... what I think is me, rather. Tears like tantrums ... I want, I, I,I ... want, want, want
Kicking and screaming I make a scene not progress. God understands and forgives. God knows that I would disdain the bastard -- me, a lone person to my lustful and hateful personage. Excelling my templar of sin, I loathe him.

What does Jesus want. In me, however little or much of Him I chose to show is Him. He wants want is Him -- pure love, unburdened by sin. What a God! He doesn't demand virgins and he doesn't grant them. He forgives you for all your wrongs. He forgives your pushing in line to murder. God wants you --- to fulfill the promise, LOVE.

I give little anonymous tokens, but little of my whole being. Jesus is in me if I were to only left Him speak ... let Him act.

If I put togethe the pieces before, I can barely see that God has a plan ... one like a trillion trillion cubed puzzle. I matched two pieces that are close, but not quite fitting. I tried and God saw it. That is purpse I serve. i am a cog or a blank page in a printer of a manuscript to be printed. I matter but am not a major player.

I also have life much easier than the poor, the sick, the paraplegic. I bitch so much about nothing. On top of my many blessings ... I have a woman, not mine ever, who loves me. She is like my body, without her -- I leave the living. God granted me her ... I plan to see her soul when we die. She knows me a bit more than friends can ever know me. God knows all and shes knows much. While I am killed bit by bit daily, I know that after my last breath, she will either await me or I her.

God put me here and there like a pawn or bishop to make the game work. I might be inclined to be selectively removed, but God prefers that I stay and render a win.