Never Forgiveness

Summary

The text is a reflective piece on the emotional toll of dreaming and the search for meaning in life, culminating in a prayer for grace over forgiveness.

Abstract

The author of the piece expresses a profound sense of loss and disillusionment stemming from dreams that have led to a life of solitude and emotional pain. Despite a journey filled with experiences and encounters, the narrator feels that the truth and comfort they sought remain elusive. The narrative touches on the vulnerability that comes with dreaming and the unfulfilled expectations of life. As the author nears the end of their journey, they resign to the realization that their life's story, though rich and complex, will be condensed into a mere twenty-five thousand words by the "chief editor of eternity." In the end, the author seeks divine grace, indicating a preference for acceptance over redemption.

Opinions

The author perceives dreams as a source of distress rather than inspiration, leading to a life of confrontation and challenges.
There is a sense of grief for the world's wrongs and a personal struggle with the inability to find the truth despite a lifetime of learning.
The author feels that their emotional openness has often led to hurt, necessitating self-protection.
The piece conveys a warning about the emotional cost of dreaming, suggesting that the author has paid dearly for their aspirations.
The author views their life as a narrative that has been observed and will be edited by a higher power, with a sense of resignation to this external judgment.
The final prayer for grace indicates a desire for understanding and compassion rather than seeking forgiveness for the life they have led.

A song, poem, short story.

Dreams have ruined my life. I’ve never sought confrontation, the first to throw a punch, or initiated a challenge to myself I thought impossible to meet, but a dream, oh my, the trail to dead ends and its loneliness.

Even now as I write, I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes with grief for the wrongs of the world. Christ is two thousand years old and the angels who started out with Him are still at His side. My life is more than half done. I’ve learned so much except the truth.

I dream I cannot be hurt anymore; there’s nothing that can hurt me inside again. But then I’m woken and within minutes I feel the pain of things too difficult for my mind to contemplate or comprehend without hemorrhaging.

I’ve always been on my own search. A traveler keen to meet others on the same road. Now I’m close to the end, I don’t know what I was looking for other than comfort.

My heart was always open, closed only when hurt became too enormous, wanting to become a fallen champion.

There is an emotional expense to dreaming. It comes with a stark warning, but having paid in full for my life, I’m ready. The ferry boat looks ridiculously small when out of the horizon, but closer to the harbor the clouds pass by overhead and darken as the leviathan approaches.

Cards are written telling of stays had. Travels traveled, faith kept, agonies disguised, and blame absorbed even when fired at point-blank range.

Surrender was never unconditional. Not then. Not now.

My life is worth twenty-five thousand words. Nothing highbrow. Written about a boy who believed the ads. Or a man who cried, hollered, whispered, growled, and rumbled on toward one inescapable conclusion. His life was someone else’s dream, lifted, curled, suspended in the air.

The whole story, the quest, is rounded down by the chief editor of eternity to twenty-five thousand words. A short story. Its ending sentence:

I pray only for grace, never forgiveness.