busy

busy busy busy.
drowning any possibility of vision.
i have a dream of a spot down a small path, carved between trees and shrubs, leading to a garden with a stream and a wooden bench. God would join me and i would be quiet and still enough to listen, as He spoke of His plans to rescue people. i'd listen to His weeping as He spoke of the hurricane katrina victims.
timidly i'd give Him my hand as He reached for it. i'd take a deep breath and let myself go, into His ebrace. gently He would spin me around and then back into His arms, and then we would do it again. if only i were'nt so busy. if only i were'nt so concerned with how my life is going.