Red books, bright stars, and the man that chooses to be in front of both

thinking about it all, it just doesn't make sense.
this thing i call grace.
how come it is, it wasn't until i wasn't trying, that i was healed? does that say something to my creator? does that scream an obvious observation wrapping upon my head like a judge with his hammer upong the table? i would like to make sense of it. oh, i would.
"life is good," is something you may hear me say. It's something carved like ancient glyphics in the cave of my soul. It's something i'll say, even if i hate life. Why does that seem so unfitting?

i just don't know.

i just don't know...

"One who has nothing, has nothing to lose." An old proverb skimmed over in a tiny, red booklet. Somewhere, i see an answer. i may refuse to acknowledge it. i may decide to let it boggle my mind in the worst. i may just let it be a part of me and see where that leads.

yeah, that sounds good.
letting it be what it is, and seeing where it goes...
hmmm... i'm thinking... but then again, headaches really don't have a part in understanding God.
Finger twitching, head itchy, and eyelids tired. What has everything come to on this night of dew-covered grass and open, velvet skies? i don't know a lot, but i do know one thing.

i do know one thing.
shalom.