Crosshair

Im at a crossroad in my life, or should I say a crosshair?
I look around for my savior but there is no cross there.
As much thinking as Ive been doing I should`ve lost hair.
If you look in my eyes there is just a lost stare.

What did I do? Did i really ruin my potential for greatness?
Or is it something that comes with time and I’m just impatient?

Patience, it’s a documented fact that I have none of that.
So I tried to journey out but forgot my backpack.
I should have been more prepared and at least brought knapsack.
But like a quarterback with no lineman I hiked and got sacked.

Linebackers bulldozed through like a tractor.
My imaginary Offensive line was a non factor.
I absorbed the hit and staggered attempting to avoid disaster I threw the ball like a passer.

I took a big hit like the original Madden hit stick,
But this lick is the one that damn near left my wig split.

My spirit is broken and I’m trying to recover,
And like my credit card I’m trying to discover the values my mother instilled in me when I was younger.

Somewhere along the way this life stopped going according to plan, or is it that I didn’t plan according to life?
I guess I didn’t plan for affording the lights, because there’s a price to pay before your rewarding is bright.

My desires duck behind any obstacle able to obstruct and muck up whatever’s possible.
I require whatever’s optimal, and I’m sticking with the plan no audibles.

Lessons learned are more then what’s audible…
You observe what’s optical, touch what’s topical
And hope to hop out of harm’s way before situations become volatile.

I’m learning that possible isn’t always the precursor to probable.
Expecting dreams to land in your lap isn’t logical.
If anything that’s an expectation that’s comical.

Yet, this is no laughing matter.
Dreams I had of rising through the corporate ladder are almost shattered.
In the book of life I’m ready to write a new chapter leaving the former pages tattered.

I’ve seen this all before, images of me unmotivated but wanting more with my ambitions lacking a core.
The dreams that I adore are crumbling and crashing to the floor with no hope of being restored.
Instead, I implore images of me shopping for more than what’s in store reupholstering my life with new decor.

Or … to at least be more comfortable,
And be able to corral comfort outside my comfort zone.
I also need to confront my fear of doing things alone, especially since fear is an emotion I don’t condone.
Fear isn’t a characteristic of the heir to the throne, I want to call shots without lifting a phone.

Suppose I give up, what would my life become?
The story of a young man whose composure spun undone?
My life is fit for more than a story on “Unsung,”
nor will it resemble and instrument that has come unstrung

I won’t fade quietly.
I won’t stray mindlessly,
but I passed time dealing with this pain silently because it slowly drained the fight in me.
I used to fight pridefully.
Then started to stand idly, until I sought the Lord and his blessings spread wildly.

My ambition returned and from the pain I’ve learned that you can’t play with fire and not expect to get burned.
Now I yearn for the guidance of God casting away my concerns to be deferred.

I’m no longer in a gun’s sight centered in the crosshair
Instead, it’s the scope of my eye and there is a cross there.