I can't get no satisfaction

Something is not right. Something is broken and wanting. My mind is occupied with the noise of life, and only in moments when volume fades and solitude creeps does the sound of my own heart make its voice known. It is not a loud or even moderate cry but more like a subtle, sad whimper. It is the sound of squeaky doors in haunted houses, hidden most of the time by the din of shallow conversations and earthly obligations. I wonder if this is what the Holy Spirit interprets for the Father, the deep heart groans of lost children who, in moments at dusk, realize how lost we really are. Something is missing. Something is unfinished and incomplete inside of me. There is a hole, a deep echoing cavernous pit in my soul. Like I said most of the time I ignore it. I pretend to be happy, and feign meaning and purpose. It seems that no matter what I do I cannot chase this emptiness away.

I thought that if I could be the good at something, then I might find some kind of reprieve. Perhaps relationship, nakedness, sex and intimacy might fill up what I am missing. In every attempt I find myself still wanting. What Solomon reflects I have since embraced, “Vanity of vanities, All is emptiness.” Or as the Rolling Stones put it, "I can't get no satisfaction."