Monday, March 15, 2010

Anywhere the Wind Blows...

“Momma, life had just begun, but now I’ve gone and thrown it all away!”

~Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody.

A sodden reality. A tragedy known to all too many. Anger let fly and the legacy of a moment’s insanity. It’s just a very, very sad story of sadness’s piled atop one another. Laments upon grieving upon heartache upon anguish and despairing! Nothing of an understatement at all.

A moment’s madness. Reflecting later or for a lifetime on those sorry words—what use? ‘Nothing really matters,’ indeed. Yet, there’s a spritely honest feel in this song that’s taken the world by storm for decades. It is musical and literary genius and nothing short.

Facing the truth; the horrible truth—a thousand or more emotional stab wounds—the heart cannot stand the pain of the memory so rich in cursed triumph.

How many sit rotting in prison feeling like they wished they’d never been born at all?—families left behind to an eternity of stark, shrill and lonely truth. The very fact of prisons makes me depressed; that humanity would be subjected to this gross anti-freedom and dire hopelessness—the spirit crushed.

How too can such a popular song have such clandestine and spiritually deep lyrics, with music and transitions to match? I stand truly wonderstruck.

‘Anywhere the wind blows... doesn’t really matter to me...’ is this really the destiny? Is this where life truly finishes?

Life at times seems so unreal as we pinch ourselves as to the plight we find ourselves in. And the main point is this: why is it some find themselves in such dire circumstances, and we, though we’re as bad, yet haven’t been caught, get away? This is the biblical model of sin I call to. All have sinned! Not one passes through unscathed.

How fortunate are we?

That a person or two or thousands love us... that we come and go as we please... that God has allowed us this freedom of life to live and choose and chase and deny and abstain and plunder (within bounds).

Anywhere the wind blows... doesn’t really matter to me.

Take a moment to pray for a prisoner. Have compassion; it could so easily be you or me.

© 2010 S. J. Wickham.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.