Thought Picnic: My very own Psalms

Channelling David

I sometimes feel like the Psalmist when he wrote the psalms of despair and desperation. I wonder to myself, can I take any more of this?

How long? Many psalms ask, how long shall all this go on for before I expire under the weight of being overwhelmed or rise like a phoenix from the ashes of all that I ever knew that has been consumed in the flames of adversity?

Yes, that dreadful thought has crossed my mind, never dwelt on it, but driven by at just the right speed to see what it is all about – we can put a stop to all of this at once [one more pill; maybe a couple more, the slip from a high place; maybe a higher place, a long drink; maybe down a few more - if I had a bath tub I could even have more ideas] and history can begin to pen itself on the pages of the tales of someone else.

We can drift into memory captured in the capsules of time as references that once put footsteps in the sands of time – easy, easing with ease – and it is all done.

A day comes beyond all this

But we are not ones to let that take root, not if we can help it. The storms gather, the winds billow and the clouds darken but the weather is never an interminable event.

The storms will run out of fury, the winds will run out of puff and the clouds will give up the moisture that makes them dark, they will even clear out of the way for the sun to shine through in the day and the moon to light up the dark amongst the trees.

Take heart, there is a psalm that promises goodness, mercy and victory and it would not be long before melancholy is the melody of joy and happiness.