The Enneagram 4's Abandonment of Fantasies


O God, must I go on
In constant disappointment
And nauseating dread?
Do not make me stay here
Suffering the monotony
Of the same chores
And demands upon me.
I have no appetite for this.

O God, allow me to escape
To construct my own realities.
Let me shuffle through my files
That store fantasies for every whim:
Fantasies of my bravery,
Strength and wisdom,
Where I succeed and lead,
Am saved and praised.

O God, how these perfected images
Beckon me like a drug,
Luring me to foster a hunger
For a place where I am the center.
Yes, that is, a hunger for hell.

O God, I don't want to want them,
For I know that every minute I'm there
I increase my dissatisfaction with
All that is good and true and beautiful.
I numb my senses to what is real,
And render myself more inept
To handle the day in front of me.

So, God, save me from these images
Of my own self-made perfection,
These idols to which I bow and slave.

Rather, give me a hunger
For what you have given
Which is good.
Sharpen my senses,
To ground me in the present moment
To see the gifts I have.
To decipher the drama that is now
And to understand its glorious meaning,
Which is never dull or monotonous.

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