No, not empty, but somehow not full;
On the table, a feast is served, but remains untasted.
Yet, not down, but not high enough.
From the hilltops, climbers beckon and I hang back.
Not stone deaf, still I don’t hear.
From somewhere nearby, music plays, but I can’t comprehend.
No. There is life, but not what you’d call living.
More abundant is promised, yet I’m content to merely exist.
This no-man’s-land was never intended to be
The place where we walk and love and live.
There was always more.
Bread has been offered, and joy without limit.
One with ears to hear will find them filled.
Life forever has already begun.
I’ve stayed here long enough.
Time to move on.
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© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2013. All Rights Reserved.