The Wild Dance

A reflection on the mystery of being a human

To be human is to dance wildly
upon the head of peril and play.
To gaze upward at the heavenly stars
while our bare feet are caked in the cold mud.
Oh mystery of mysteries…

We strive violently for peace.
We labor tirelessly to rest.
We hold a thousand dreams.
Praying that one might just be real.
And so we sleep and wake to hope.

We hunger desperately for bread
and yet so often settle for sugar.
We ache for the promised land
but can’t help but take detours.

We’re lost and don’t know how to admit it.
We’re found and don’t know how to enjoy it.

We’re a bundle of paradoxes.
A heart set aflame by love.
A flame extinguished by hurt.
Wounded and yet healing.

Do not stop dancing to the music.
Do not stop longing for your home.
Do not attempt to solve the mystery.
Do not try to tame the fire.
Let it rage and burn away all fear.

Even in detours we find hidden wells.
Even in wounds we sense a silent presence.
Only in the tension do we feel alive.
Only in the mess do we stumble upon grace.