I no longer question the existence of God.
I’ve passed that point in my life.
I know damn well I was created, and though I often forget,
I know what I was meant to do.
Still, I find myself struggling through the muck of life.
I know it was never meant to be easy, but
I’d like the chance to catch my breath before the next wave of shit hits.
The older I get, the harder it gets to swim, and
the less it feels like love and kindness will prevail.
The world continues to turn.
Its’ rusty gears grinding ever so slowly towards a stop.
Still, I wake up each morning and feign productivity.
Not sure if what I’m doing makes a difference.
Not sure I’m following the right path or just treading water.
But I’ll be damned if I just lay down and rot.
I choose to be contentedly unsatisfied.
I am thankful.
Pushing through the waves while being pulled under.
There is always something or someone who will try to pull you down.
The question remains…
Do I have what it takes to make it back to the surface?
To take the next breath.