party moments

in a room filled with chatter
hearing nothing
longing for something real

looking around
wondering how much is illusion

skating on the surface
wishing to dig for gold

desiring to tear open the envelope of illusion
hoping something real will fall out

all these words floating about
just floating
not seeming to land anywhere

if nothing lands
nothing roots
nothing bears fruit

what has happened to us all
to cause us to float about
to flit in and out of each other's lives

to chatter
but no longer touch
to drink wine
not in remembrance
while never breaking bread

seems to be a larger emphasis on shaping the body
than caring for the soul

more interest in pleasuring self
than pleasuring Him

we used to harmonize
but the music of it all now seems rather discordant

seems like fun on the surface
but isn't it all rather empty .........
illusionary

alone
in a crowd

would be so lovely to kneel together
to sing together
to touch one another
to perhaps cry together
laugh together
to be real together
in fellowship

I miss that ...........

now
its just a crowd

I don't do crowds well