Exhaustion, Oh my limbs, my body whole.
What they feel that my heart does not.
I just wish to return to my place of slumber,
where what is dreamt came make me regret.
The cold sweat is the moment I awaken...
Knowing nothing, and remembering little.
Hunger, my belly for fulfillment so sweet...
The theory behind so many burdens,
the many weights on these weary shoulders,
That I have ever called my own.
And now my knees are my feet,
covered with the hoof prints of a dead horse.
Tell me God, the Creator in a Kingdom his own...
Tell me of my purpose in the method you wish...
Tell me once more if not a million times...
As for this all, the new and unwanted-
I have no push left in me...For this---
I feel nothing...
Again, I'm homesick, and the longer I'm away, the more life is sucked out of me...my sanity is a different story.
I wouldn't say your insane. It's unbelievers that are insane. Your poem though shows you're exhausted and calling on the Lord for reasons "why". And homesickness is never easy: especially when you're exhausted.
So were both crazy? It's nice to know I'm not the only (in)sane person on this website.