Prodigal

Been trying to organize my thoughts for days now
Fatigue seems to rule, while discovery lingers just outside my grasp
If I could just articulate these wordless sighs & aching groans
All the while the spirit knows & prays within
For I am all too often enslaved to sin

How can I even hope to find
A place of comfort...a place of rest
When underneath the radiance of objective Truth
Lie grey shadows of subjectivity to each wayward son
Fully seeing is only left to when the trek is done

Icharian fantasy calls my name
Taking wing never leaves one the same
I long to take on the sky, to swim in blue
What's needed sometimes isn't so bold
But to seek shelter under silver & gold

I know that I'm fearfully & wonderfully made
I wonder sometimes if it'd been better if I had just stayed
In the place of pre-existence where I was known still
Instead of being imprisoned in this tent just for a while
Culpable of all I've done, continue to do & yet to do, only to be reconciled

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful as I'm able
It's just that my walk isn't always that stable
My prayer is not to drag others down into the ditch
Blindly seeking the acceptance of Light
Ashamed of my attempted flight, stumbling plight & love of the night

Can I accept His creation on His terms?
Can I truly learn what my very nature attempts to spurn?
Can I even love that which is destined to burn?
Can my heart learn to break as it once did?
Can I ever, save for love, all else rid?