Crying (a song)

I walk the floor of the lonely home
I look out at the grey skies
Alone I pace the room
And lay down because I can take it no longer

I'm crying, I'm crying
Longing for the arms I cannot reach
See my tears on my face and heart
Signs of the battle inside
I'm crying, hear my pain
I don't want to be alone anymore

Fever in my mind and soul
God free me from solitude
Alone I am at loss
And grieving because I thought I was strong alone

I'm crying, I'm crying
Longing for a friendly face and smile
See my tears on my face and heart
Signs of the battle inside
I'm crying, hurts so hard
I can't stand to be alone anymore

But I'm too weak to move
Too scared to change
Breaking from my flaws and wrongs
God why give me cares and love,
Sensitivity and compassion
When I'm too weak to be any of these things
I'm useless
broken
dying
I can't stand to be alone anymore

I'm crying, I'm crying
Longing to share the joy of life
See my tears on my face and heart
Signs of the battle inside
I'm crying, yet softly
I don't want to be alone anymore.

Black Flight

One solitary feather I found,
The breeze teasing it off the ground.
In the light, the way it fluttered,
The raven's name I spluttered.
Long had they not been seen,
But upon this land, upon this green,
The violet and the blue,
The green and golden true,
Shine so soft within my hand.
Where does it fly, its owner grand?

I looked in the distance to see him there,
The places he had been I knew not where.
But there he flew, quick and strong
Onward, onward, his flight so long.
May-hap it be that I live as he,
My journey flows o'er land and sea,
Our paths are the same, this raven and I,
We both have hearts that touch the sky.
Though through trials and troubles we trod,
Still we fly, the created of God.

Walking On Water

I'm struggling, can't see my way.
I hope to find the answer to clear my path.
My belief in myself wavers,
But then is when I see my faith shine like the dawn:
My Savior, my Guide keeps calling me,
Whispering my name.
"Lord if You are willing," I cry,
"Let me be blind no more."
A hand reaches out...


The boat rocks to and fro,
I look at the grey raining heavens and turn away,
As my glance crosses the sea,
He is there, walking my way.
Like a ghost, like a dream,
Telling me not to be afraid.
"Lord if it is You," I cry,
"Tell me to come to You on the water."
A hand waves and beckons...


Take my life
Take my will
Take my soul
Take all of me.
I am done with who I am
And how I am living.
Show me the way.
Change my life from the inside,
So I can have the courage to change the world around me.
Give me peace as I face the place I'm about to step.
I've made my choice,
Show me it's right.
Guide me in my new day.


I step out onto the cool water.
My feet feel the moisture that supports me.
I step again, and again.
But then I look up and see the storm.
My concentration shatters,
And the waves rise around me.
"Lord save me!" I cry,
And I sink.
A hands catches me...


"Why did you doubt?"
Came the whisper.
"I was here the whole time.
Why did you doubt?"
And the storm subsides...

How Can I Love You?

A poem.
In address to all gays, lesbians, transgenders, bisexuals, and queer.


I see their faces.
They're laughing at me.
Victory! they cry.
Their "rights" they proclaim.
So they rub it in my face.
And they attack everything I hold dear.
They claim it in love and tolerance.
They dance and sing in the streets.
They flaunt their happiness and "freedom."
But their words beat at me.
Their actions taunt my lifestyle.
Their violence towards my way of living
Saddens me.
How should I be expected
To love them and be nice to them,
When they do not treat me the same.
They claim that I hate them,
Because I see their actions as wrong.
They accuse me.
I'm supposed to love all people,
But I don't love them?
So strange I have become to you.
What has come of your sight?
Oh you wandering souls,
You who have sent my people into the minority?
Don't you see?
Can't you see that I do love you,
Wish you well,
Help you where I can?
I do not hate you.
But I cannot live the way you live.
I do not hate you.
I fight for you.
Everyday.
Where you have given up,
Still the battle wages on.
The pain you inflict on me,
When you laugh at me,
And demand I tell you why I hate you,
Is enough to kill one.
But still I live.
Because I have another, greater strength.
Still I fight for you.
Because I am a warrior of Love.
Still I love you.
Because the love is greater than me so I overflow.
Still I pray for you.
Because no matter how hard I try,
I cannot save you alone.
Nothing of me can change you.
Only the love of God alone.
Believe me,
I wish I could hate you.
Because you have hurt me,
And fight against me
And my way of living.
How I wish I could hate you.
But I cannot.
I love you.
Because God loves you through me.
I cannot live the way you live,
Though you would like me to.
I cannot give up. I cannot give in.
Because THIS is who I am.
I am a vessel of Jesus.
It is HE who loves you.
Listen to Him.
He is there.

What Is This Place?

What a funny mix of people.
A businessman alone because of divorce
His wife left and took the kids.
A young man in his early twenties
Covered in gauges and tattoos.
A handful of women with children
No wedding bands on their fingers
Or married with no man to speak of.
A young woman who used her beauty
To earn her wretched living.
What a funny mix of people.
A young man, smart and amiable to the world,
But addicted to porn and violence.
A young woman who smiles and sings,
But hides her self-inflicted scars.
An older man with drug history.
An older woman with no apparent reason to live.
What a funny mix of people.
They're all together.
And they're all singing in joy.
At the tops of their lungs.
Swaying, almost dancing.
What has come over them?
What is this place?
That they should gather,
So different and become as one?
All of them sick, hurt, needing.
Everyone has something to hide.
Everyone has a past, a regret.
All of them not trying to be righteous.
Not trying to be good.
Accepting their wrongs.
And taking forgiveness and healing.
They are all broken and lost.
And they see that and rise up.
What is this place?
All these people, all these sad stories.
But they have begun to truly live.
Their spirits were freed.
Their lives start anew.
What is this place?
Is this a hospital that there is healing?
Is this a home where all are welcome?
Is this a barracks where they are as one?
Yes.
And no.
These people are not religious.
They may or may not meet in a building.
But they recognize sin
And they recognize forgiveness.
They recognize where the true Love resides.
They recognize the King who came to end religion.
Faith and joy fill them.
They begin again.
What is this place?
This is the Church.


"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." - Matthew 11:28

Two (A Poem)

Two.
One an Empath,
The other a Vulcan.
One a wood-elf,
The other a high-elf.
One full of laughter,
The other laughs little.
One part extrovert,
One part introvert.
Both used to denial.
Love?
An impossibility.
One feels too much,
the other not enough.
Two warriors.
Turned away from love.
Told themselves that no one cares.
One strove to pretend to care,
Acting it all through,
Singing stories,
Lying to the world and herself,
Telling them she loved.
One pursued the unfeeling,
Denying all emotion,
Pushing away happiness and hope,
Lying to the world and himself,
Believing the rationale alone can save.
Two.
One an emotional wreck,
The other a computing mind.
Love?
An impossibility.
A curse? No.
A blessing, for together,
They might grow to understand
Themselves and the world around them.
Their paths crossed not by coincidence,
But by Design.
They were meant to be.
Two.
Different but the same.
Seeking the same end,
The same love and meaning.
Separate, but as one.
The road will be difficult,
But only together can they become better.
They are pledged.
Never let them forget or choose to leave.
They are two.
Soon to be joined together.
The rings are shared.
Soon the two shall become as one.
Forever.

I Walk This Night Alone

They say the stars are beautiful,
But when I look at them I turn away.
Their glow so distant
Reminds me of another so far.
The joy of the twinkling candles,
Would return to me were I not alone.
But the memories etched in those orbs,
Are memories of growing time,
What once was, and that I cling to.
Oh the songs of all the heavenly host of the night
Where once I sang with them,
Now my voice rises no more.
Silent tears match the diamonds above,
As my heart trembles for a love restored.
I walk this night alone.
Looking up to greet the rising moon,
Wishing to see a face in its light.
Eyes of the forest, brow of the night,
Nose a tower, lips the sea,
Clefted chin, teeth of pearls.
Body of great jewels.
Hands strong yet gentle.
Oh Moon, where is he now?
Not by my side, not before me.
I walk this night alone.
I look once more to the stars
And watch their turning dance.
They pass each other by
In perfect harmony
Yet never do they touch.
But their beauty cannot quench my thirst.
I long for an embrace that I cannot reach.
To hold his hand once more,
To be in his presence,
But for now it cannot be done.
I sigh and breathe and turn away.
Another day, another time,
Our union made complete.
But not this day, not this night.
I still must journey in solitude.
Follow your heart, they say,
But were I to follow at this time
Would be foolishness indeed.
So for now,
I tread the lonely path.
I walk this night alone.

Far Away

Some people crave adventure, seek the unknown
Some people desire change of pace and change of life
And still some are nomads, they can't stay home.
It takes time away, time far from it all
To clear your head, re-evaluate.
Some come back, like the Prodigal,
Some stay away, deciding the change made things better.
And still some move on once more.
You can wander or travel
Mark the distance in meter or mile,
And look back and find you are far away.
You can pick up a book
Mark the distance in lesson and growth
And look back and find you are far away.
I find myself asking why,
why does it take such in order to know
to know where you are meant to be.
I'm not sure I'm making the right decision,
but will I think that in a year or ten years later?
But the change is needed,
When nothing else can change a life,
Distance must be drawn.
I cannot just sit, I cannot just stand.
I must put my life in motion.
I must turn the hourglass.
Waiting is for when unsteady,
waiting is for when having too many options.
My way is clear, I must make the choice
and set the ball rolling.
Will I regret it? Practical says yes.
But how many worse mistakes have I made?
It is my life, the choice is mine.
I have prayed for direction,
God has shown me my options,
And now I make the choice.
I cannot stay, I must move on.
May my God continue to protect and guide me,
through this turn of my life, when I am most vulnerable.
It will almost definitely turn into a trial,
and perhaps one day I will regret it.
But I will fall if I stand alone,
But I have my Savior, I will rise up stronger.
and only
only while far away,
was I able to see
what mattered
and what i must do.
Only while far away,
could I see what was within.

Forever

When two lovers promise forever,
Do they understand?
Do they know just what they mean?
When I nodded my head,
Gave my assent,
Let him put the ring on my finger,
Told him I belonged to him,
And he replied he belonged to me
And we agreed:
Forever.
I knew what was meant.


They do not know what forever means,
Who say it is a place,
Who look Heavenward.
They do not know what forever means,
Who live for their one life,
Who deny Redeeming Grace.
They do not know what forever means,
Who cross their hearts,
Offering only human love.


Forever is Eternal,
Forever is beyond life and beyond death,
Forever is when you've hit the bottom of the well,
And suddenly God gives you wings to fly.
Forever faces the world,
And goes on.
When you promise to love forever,
Be careful that you understand.
Forever is a way of living,
Forever is a state of being.
Forever must be a promise unbroken.
Forever is love
It is peace
It is trust
It is understanding.
Forever is but a word pointing to something greater.
Forever cannot be described
It cannot be painted
It cannot be offered on a tray.
Forever can only be given by God,
Ordained by the Father,
Made possible by Jesus,
Lived through the Spirit.


Only he who walks the path of the righteous,
who is redeemed by the blood of the Son of God,
knows what forever means.
And when he's found that special woman,
And looks deeply into her eyes,
Forgives her of all her weaknesses and faults,
Can he truly promise forever.

A Real Princess

For all the girls out there who are princesses
and all the boys who will grow up to marry them.
Read with caution, read in peace.


There was once a little girl.
And she was in every way a princess.
She loved to laugh, to sing, to dance. She loved her daddy, loved her mommy.
All the adults around her treated her wonderfully. They taught her how to behave and be a lady, gave her gifts and clothes and dresses, gave her love and support, and always protected her in such a way that she got plenty of freedom but never was hurt by the evils of the world.
Then she got a little bit older.
And she was schooled and taught responsibilities and told about the bad things in the world and the things one must ever do. Her life was still wonderful. She came to know good friends (some better than others) and learned how to be a good friend herself.
Then she became a teenager.
And she began to realize the complications of growing up. All the "social norms" and expectations of young women and young men. She learned about life and trust and communication and understanding. New people, different people came into her life. She began to love parties and activities. Started being noticed by boys and noticing back. Her parents and adult friends still guarded her and her life was still good. They taught her about money and possessions and she learned to enjoy things in life but not to want to be rich. They gave her wisdom and knowledge. She tried so very hard at being a good friend and a good daughter, while learning who she was and her place in the world. At seventeen she wrote a book and started to work a job at a store, growing up, making decisions on her career and her future. No damsel in distress she would be, but a head-strong princess.
Then she made a choice.
She loved someone, but was not loved back. It broke her heart and she swore she would never love again.
In her depression and desperation, the seventeen year old young woman went out with the first man who asked her if she wanted to go on a date. And was exposed to the evils of the world. And she liked it. Enjoyed it even.
The princess was shown darkness and power - the power of the world and she realized she could become a terrible queen with many men and people beneath her feet. The temptation was strong and she deceived herself into thinking she could do it all without her parents notice or permission.
So, her self-training began.
She lied to herself, her parents, everyone. They still saw a good princess, but inside she followed the ways of the evil world, did things no one should ever do.
Then her parents found out.
They brought her home, though she continued to lie, kick and scream against them. She saw a cage instead of the beautiful home she actually lived in. In her anger and loss of all that she knew, she almost killed herself.
But she did not.
She could not bring herself to end her life.
For you see, this particular princess could see things that others could not. She had a gift of vision. As long as God allowed her to see the spark within herself, she could not raise the knife to her heart or the gun to her head. Jesus had given her the ability to see the silver lining, the hope, the life, the love that God puts there in all things. He told her that He was saving her for something special, that a real man would come to love her and marry her. Though the world had taught her lust, God taught her love and forgiveness. She had been raised a princess, and Jesus saved a princess.
From that point on, she worked hard. She pledged to herself and God that she would live as a career girl and working-class woman. She would be busy while she waited...waited for the change of life. Yes, the real change had happened in her heart and soul, but then she waited for God's guidance.
Not long after that, the princess met a young man. They started a relationship under her parents' supervision. And they grew closer together and grew to love one another. He was not perfect, but then again neither was she. But when he asked her to marry him, she knew the answer. Yes. Yes, she would be his princess for life.
She promised him that she would be poor if he was poor, that wherever he would go she would follow, that she would support him and take care of him and love him for the rest of her days. She saw dark times ahead, but she was finally ready for them. She knew that the bad and the upsetting moments would come and go because God was on their side. She knew that a real princess doesn't care about gold and jewels and dresses and pets and fun times. She understood that a real princess works hard and plays harder, gives all she is and more, loves unconditionally and yet protects herself while waiting for her protector and lover. She understood that if God approves of a marriage, and they trust in Him, it lasts to the end of time. She made the commitment in her heart and waited for the wedding day to make the commitment with her body and soul.


That story is my story.
Silver Line

The Shadow's Song

Dusk and dawn, through all the day,
the creeping smoke over men holds sway
darkness does not keep its own
waiting not 'til the north wind's blown.


I hear their voices, I hear their call,
I see their terrible figures all,
they take on cloaks of glory and disguise
hiding away, preying on the fool and the wise.


I know the song, I know it well.
once in their camp, mine own heart did dwell.
We all have made our way through their place.
The shadows cling to all of the human race.


All have fallen victim, all have suffered pains.
All have wrought their own demise, wrapped themselves in chains.
Foul I was, 'til the Savior's loving light,
brought me from the pit and gave me His Spirit's sight.


I look upon the world and see
dying lands, turning in their agony.
Believing they seek power and happiness
Singing the song that makes one worthless.


I met a man who was like myself, my own,
Who stood upon the threshold, violence clearly shown.
We were as one, committed trespasses, gloried in our sin.
We had faced the same evil, nurtured from within.


Echoing on, through all of time itself,
The shadows march whispering, "humans listen to yourself,
You know what you want, we will show you the ways
To make your life complete, filling all your days."


But lied they have, lie they will.
They make monsters of us all, and seek to corrupt us still.
They're jealous of the Lord's creation, jealous of all He holds dear,
So they twist the truth, tossing forth rumors, temptations and fear.


Listen not to them, listen not to your wretched heart,
Listen only to His voice, realize you once more may start.
Begin again, in joy and in purity,
Grow in God's hope, His light, and you'll find maturity.


His love is eternal, sing His song and you will live
So much longer than any shadow could ever give.
They seek your death, He will give you life forever,
Confess and repent, and your chains He will sever.


You'll find the wings that fly beyond life's only shore
And the reason for living His Call forevermore
You'll find new life, joyful and strong.
Once you have broken from the shadow's song.

These Bands on Our Fingers

These bands on our fingers
Symbols.
The choice has been made,
The promise given,
Not complete but one day soon.
A shared bond
To be fulfilled.
I will never finish loving him.
I have promised myself to him alone.
My heart is his,
His heart is mine.
These bands on our fingers on display.
We are bound together.
A circle unbroken
A symbol of our love
Goes on forever.
Our lives are entwined.
Our minds though separate flow together.
Our hearts are shared.
Our souls are committed to God.
We will be as one.
We made the choice.
Soon the deed will be signed.
Soon the ceremony seen through.
These bands on our fingers
Reminders of our decision.
These bands on our fingers
For all to see our commitment.
These bands on our fingers
Symbols
Of who we are.
And who we will be to the end of our days.
One.

The Eyes of My Love

I tilt my head back to see his face.
And I look into the eyes of a forest.
So deep, so mysterious. Or is he?
I know his life.
What he's done, what he's gone through.
His pain, his guilt, his joy, his happiness.
I know him.
And still I am transfixed by his gaze.
They say look into an abyss and you will see yourself.
At first I believe it.
I too faced the same darkness as he.
I too loved and did not deserve.
But then I wonder,
Is he an abyss?
Another shade personified seeking to consume me?
A chasm so dark and deep I see nothing
Nothing but myself reflected there.
Everything I once was
Everything I desired
Everything I suffered
Everything I overcame
Everything I look past
And everything I am in my life made new.
Is he but a mirror,
Twisting my reflection.
Distorting the true image.
I shake away the nightmares
And look at him once more.
And I see a youth.
Once a slave of shadow
Now rescued and on the brink of becoming man
Or falling once more.
I walked this road
God alone to help me through it.
I look at him and I see myself.
And I know.
God placed me in his life to be there for him.
Regardless of how life will be.
Regardless of what the future holds.
I will show him how to fly
And he will either try to shoot me down
Or we will fly together forever.
I will spread my wings
And he will pluck my hope away
Or he too will rise to fly.
I will be vulnerable to him.
I will love him.
And it will either bring me to ruin,
Or us both to glory.
I have made my choice,
Looking into that forest.
Adventure awaits there.
Will it be a sad sad story,
Or will it be one to bring hope?
Will it be another cautionary tale,
Or one worth praying for?
Fear, plague me no more.
Boldly do I stand.
This is the life I have chosen.
Robbers or Robin Hood
Monsters or fairies
Witches or unicorns
Trolls or centaurs
There is magic there.
No wonder I can't stop looking at him.
I have made my choice.
There is something waiting for me
Deep in the woods.
I will not look back.
I will not turn away from the forest.

Soon

Soon, was the promise.
An echo in my memory.
The King promising to bring His chosen to me.
The love of my life,
And I was to wait.
The King told me soon he would come.
And He kept His word.
But it still seemed long.
Three years it was before he came.
I did not wait.
I grew impatient, loved another.
And almost gave myself to still another.
But now he is here.
Soon, was the promise.
The King brought him to me at last.
But now that we are pledged
I find the passion inside
That I had so carefully guarded
Growing stronger
Longing to break free.
My lover held me
but would not take me.
Not yet. Not yet.
He was strong where I was weak.
But is it so wrong to desire your future?
Is it so wrong to want to see my love to fulfillment?
To feel his arms gently push me back,
to tell me to wait for the embrace I long for.
Soon, was the promise.
I see the time ahead drawing closer.
Where once all was hazy,
Now I can see it in the distance.
Not there yet. Soon.
Yet this was the same word given me by the King.
He Who calls all times Soon.
Oh Patience, why do you run from me?
Don't you see that I need you now?
This chapter is drawing to a close.
Do not let me skip one page.
Not one page. Not one line.
However much my patience draws thin,
I will hold on.
This is my life. I cannot rush through it.
I will wait for him.
Like sand through the hourglass,
A pebble, a deed must be done.
The timing must be right.
Day by day, little by little.
I see him.
Our day, our lives as one draw near. Not yet.
Soon.

Wait For The Perfect Timing

     Several years ago, at a teen group, a girl I didn't know and as far as I could remember had never seen before, walked up to me and handed me a piece of paper. She said, "I felt I should give this to you. I don't know why." Then she walked away and I never saw her again. And I believed God had answered my prayers. But when I opened up the paper and read the poem there, I could hardly believe that it was God's purpose for me. I had no notion that it might come true. But I believe it has. I found him. And I put these words of hope out there for all. Regardless of what you are looking for and what you need, trust in God. When He makes a promise, even if you don't know it was He who made it, He keeps it. Wait on God, and His Perfect Timing will shine in your life.

As I wait, I wish and pray-

Hoping to meet you someday.

Far away seems the time,

When you will hold me,

And be forever mine.

Terribly stretching seems

The wait for you.

Sometimes I pray

You'd just get here soon.

But what if I already know you?

And you I?

And if in the end,

God takes us by surprise?

Suppose there be a day,

When I wake to hear God say,

"My daughter, he is worth the wait.

Don't pursue a certain date

For my timing is perfect and never late.

A closing to a simple rhythm.

But never a close to the purpose

I have in mind.

So patiently await-

And disappointment you will never find.

For my timing is perfect and oh so divine.

It will sweep you off your feet,

And you will never regret,

This time of waiting-

As I see fit to complete."



Wheels of My MInd

The wheels of my mind are in motion,
cogs turn,
the pendulum swings.
The wheels in my mind click on,
think and re-think
round and around
emotion fights with reason,
impulse with logic.
The wheels of my mind are spinning,
I am reeling and dizzy
stress and a thousand thoughts plague me,
sleep is no comfort,
it only brings dreams.
Distractions are my desired companions,
I keep attempting to forget
trying not to think it all over again.
The wheels of my mind churn on.
God grant me decision,
give me peace and resolution.
Fears of the unknown future,
memories of the past,
surround me at every turn.
Pain and Joy dance in tandem,
Fear and Love nod across the room.
The wheels of my mind revolve again,
Savior, hear my cry.
I do not know where to go.
I want peace and joy.
I desire a contented life.
Give me wisdom and understanding,
that I might see the road before me.
Tell me the meaning of the vision,
show me what I must do.
I know my weakness,
I know where I struggle.
Help me to grow
that I might be there for the ones I love.
The wheels of my mind are in motion.
Guide me, Oh Lord,
that I might walk the path You've chosen.
Show me, Oh Lord,
the life I am to live before You bring me home.

Laughter And Happiness

     Robin Williams, one of the greatest comedians the world has ever known, committed suicide yesterday.
     I have read that many, so many, of the comedians did. They lived in the spotlight, "loved" by millions. But according to psychology studies, the "class-clowns" and jokesters in our lives are this way because of a "negative" in his or her childhood. They are funny because they want the reaction. To be positively noticed. That all the hilarity occurs because of something bad in their lives elsewhere leaving them feeling unseen or unloved.
     So to hide it, the "funnies" live in such a way that makes everyone around us smile and laugh. So no one sees the pain inside. I can say that it can be reversed as well. I sometimes use my own laughter as a mask. I will giggle at everything simply to hide my fears, pain, nervousness. I have been trying not to because I want people to see me as I am, but sometimes I still revert back to my "default reaction".
     Don't get me wrong. I love to laugh. Laughter is a medicine and an ice-breaker. Laughter shows people your sense of humor and easy-going nature. It's just that sometimes it is used as a mask. Robin Williams admitted to problems and struggles in his life. He used his wit and humor to find himself a place in this world, and I applaud that. Unfortunately it did not stop his life from ending tragically like so many before him.
     On that point, many people think that I am a silly, fun loving individual. I love to entertain, to make people smile and laugh. Seeing people happy makes me happy. But what if it's because I'm happy to begin with that I try to make others happy? I see happiness as a contagion. I've got it and I can give it away. Why not make others happy? But unlike psychologists and scientists, I understand that happiness sometimes can come from chemicals, but always comes out of choice.
     Why do I say this? Because I know joy. Something much stronger than happiness that arises from the spiritual and not the emotional. My almost constant flow of happiness stems from this. If I could share that joy, and the happiness that comes with it, I would. And I try. It's part of what I live for.
     People tell me that I am an amazing person. I make friends easily, I play hard, work harder at work, and live with abandon. They tell me I am one of the nicest of people. They remember me. I wish I could tell them all, strangers and friends and enemies alike, why I am this. And I have. And I still do. Time and again the story comes out.
     My life is a mess a lot of the time. No matter how hard I try I still make mistakes and not enough gets done in the day. Sometimes I am left feeling completely frazzled and helpless. I get emotional and opinionated about stupid stuff. I am not as smart as I probably should be. Things happen that I can't control and I don't like it. But still I can smile and laugh and love. Why?
     Because I am loved. And I love.
     Plain and simple. I am loved by a God who died for me so I could face the world with innocence and joy. Given the gift of love to reach out to people that no one else would give a second chance to.
     I began as unlovable.
     Now I am redeemed by God Himself. Loved by an incredible family. And met a man who believes himself unlovable by me. He's so wrong on that. I love him so much.
     My joy comes from God Most High. My happiness (and most of my laughter) comes from my joy. Let me spread it around. If people were as happy nearly as much as I am, we'd have a much better world.
     I encourage the comedians and jokesters to keep up their work.
     But I also challenge the rest of us to make sure they don't suffer apart from the laughter. Give them happiness by truly getting to know them and care for them. And maybe, just maybe, there'll be a comedian to rise who finds the joy away from the laughter. And not die unhappy. But die contented, joyful, and Redeemed in Christ who is the giver of pure joy and Love.

Am I Worth It?

a letter.


My lover,
     There was once a time when a knight would choose a lady of the court and would wear something of hers or her family's colors to display his devotion to her during jousting and combat tournaments. And there was a time when a man would build a house for his future family as a young bachelor. If he was rich, he built a mansion. If he was poor he built a small cottage. But the point is not how big or small, lavish or poor the house was. The point is he toiled and labored (or paid laborers) to provide a home for the ones he loved.
     In history men have had to climb mountains and commit deeds of bravery in order to prove themselves men. Nowadays such a thing is almost non-existent. But I recognize a spark of this old determination in you. You expressed the feeling that you were not worthy of me. Then become worthy. I see in you so much potential. Become from the strong young man that I know and love to an amazing man of God that I know you can be.
     You said you wanted the best for me. And out of love for me you told me you wished that I loved another, because you believed yourself nowhere near the best for me. That you wanted better for me. Then become better. Strive to be the best. Make yourself a better man. The man of my dreams.
     If it takes to look upon me as a prize worth fighting for to make you try for me, then do it. Live every day at your best. Study and work hard every day. Keep your life goals in mind every day. And you will grow into a man. They say there are three things that can turn a boy into a man: death, war, or a woman. Let me be that woman. Write my name on your wall and beside it the words, "I will win you." Live every day like a battle. You are a soldier of the Light. Live every day like in a competition. Raise your flag high, knight, lower your visor, and charge into life.
     And maybe, maybe, you will find me waiting for you.
     Maybe I am your prize.
     Am I worth it?
     I know that I will try to be the woman best for you. And if you try to be the man best for me?
     You will only find out if you try.


With sincerest wishes,
Your Treoris.

Heartbeat

Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
In
and out.
In
and out.
In love and out of it.
Out of love and into it.
This insanity goes on.
Over and over.
This roller coaster.
Heartbeat of love.
Moments of passion.
Times of loneliness.
Moments of pacing.
Times of happiness.
Joy and pain.
Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
Heartache. Longing.
Does it ever end?
There are times when I've wanted to run away.
Hating this thrill ride.
Because of the troughs.
Because of my doubts.
Because of the storm inside.
And other times I couldn't stand it.
Drowning in this joy.
Because of the crests.
Because of my faith.
Because of the storm inside.
"You must wait."
"But-"
"Wait."
Rise. Crest.
Fall. Trough.
In and out.
In and out.
Faster.
Impatience.
I do not wait on others well.
I cannot wait forever.
I will not wait forever.
How long must I wait for this to end?
Rise. Crest. Fall. Trough.
I know what I want.
But I must wait.
In and out. In and out.
My breathing grows heavy.
The sand in the hourglass of my patience drops.
I will not wait forever.
I almost wish my heart broken just to be rid of the thrill.
Just to be rid of the roller coaster.
All or nothing.
I must either complete my love or sever it from me.
I can love from a distance.
I can love a dream.
But not someone only halfway.
As it is now.
Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
Still my heart beats.
Still I wait.
I have some patience left.

I Dream Again

     A lone tree. It is old and yet it is young. I saw the hill on which it stands before it grew there. I felt the grass at its base. The tree was planted by two young lovers. A promise made. The years flew by, the tree grew. Now it stands tall, strong, and thick.
     A lone man. He's standing there beneath the branches of the tree. Leaning against its trunk. One hand is in his pocket, the other holding his large phone with the glowing screen, his thumb touching and sliding back and forth across it. His mind is on something else, not really paying attention to what's in his hand.
     But the image is wrong in my mind. The man I see is young and the tree is old. Yet the same man planted that tree. What can it mean?
     The tree is love.
     Two lovers kneeling down in prayer on top of the hill, hand in hand, discovered a tiny mustard seed.
     They planted it, watered it, and came back every day to tend it.
     And it grew. A mighty tree, from a tiny beginning.
     And the man?
     I see him young because that is how he is now. He is in Time. The tree is out of Time. The tree is in Eternity yet I see him leaning against it? How can this be?
     Because part of him is in Eternity as well.
     As am I.
     The tree is ours. In the future and now.
     I see it because it may be.
     It might become.
     I dreamed again.
     It is a wonderful dream, and its meaning came while I still saw it unfold. Unlike my first dream of this kind.
     The first I do not share. Not yet. It is still unclear to me. But this, this I will tell. This story is beautiful with no uncertainties except the possibility that it might not be or perhaps it will. But that choice is only partially mine.
     I still await on the meaning of the first dream.
     But my constant pleading with God to explain the first to me is soothed for the time being with this new dream. And the hope...
     Maybe I will dream again.

Cover Me

     In a world of "show me," where patches of bare skin, tight clothes and droopy drawers are the norm, a peculiar sight could be seen at the mall last weekend. A young couple walking hand in hand, clothed well, modest, and beautiful. Him - shirt tucked into high waist, belted jeans. Her - simple pants and doubly-layered shirt covered by a bright blue wrap. But as they went along the wrap would occasionally slip down and he would pause to gently pull it back up to hide her bare shoulders from the sun and the people around them.
     This, dear reader, is how I define modesty. Where most would "take it off," the concern by both of them - her to wear the wrap in the first place and he to aid her, they kept it. Yes, two lovers would desire the other, but the meaning behind the gesture of covering the shoulders or wearing the veil is incredibly important and significant.
     Now, I'm not saying I'm an advocate for wearing something on the head all the time nor is the choice of spaghetti-strap sleeveless shirt considered modest for everybody. What I'm saying is, whatever level of modesty you choose, you should make sure you aren't' doing it to attract negative or lustful attention and you respect other people's choices in clothing.
     Yes, there are times when I've wanted to tell some teenage boys to pull up their pants and some young women to wear a higher neckline and longer shorts and skirts. But even in history, with differing styles and levels of modesty, there have always been ways to "stand out" and attract the attention of the world. Unfortunately, as the world has gone on turning, more and more skin is seen it seems.
     I call upon both the young women and men of this day and age: discover your own style. Loosen the corsetpants (yes I just made that word up). Hide the underwear. You want to be noticed? Be the butterfly. Wear the extra flowing layer that hides the figure. Wear the vest that adds some class.
     Be the trend-setter. Find the right outfit for you that people will compliment you for what you're wearing, not what's underneath. Be eccentric. Wear something crazy so that people notice it instead of the body and skin you have.
     Look for the person that would offer you something more to wear if you express discomfort or question yourself on your modesty. And never turn them down if they give you the look that asks, "cover me."

Hold Me Forever

a prayer


Lord I love You
and You've given me love on this Earth.
The joy I feel when he holds me close
is a joy I never want to be without.
The thrill, the jumping heartbeat
every time he touches me
is something I hope will never fade.
Lord I love You
and You've given me a blessing in a wonderful man.
I crave his voice, his hold.
I long for him to take me home
and love me forever.
But then troubles come
and doubts rise in my mind.
I forget what he's like
when pain comes
and I struggle to stand on my own.
And I realize that You are the answer I seek.
If we are a part of Your plan,
You will see it to its end.
If it is him I am waiting for,
I must trust in You.
I love him.
But Lord I love You more.
I know You will hold me forever.
Give me strength and patience,
and if we are a part of Your plan,
You will see it completed.
I want him to hold me forever.
In the end You are the answer.
Tell me if he will hold me forever.
In Your Name.
Amen. So let it be.

Your Strength

from a woman to her lover


My darling you are strong.
It's in everything you do.
Your desire to build muscle,
and to develop intellect,
I applaud you.
You want to make yourself better?
Go for it.
You are amazing.
It's in everything you do.
But realize this -
You are human.
And there will be times
Where you can't make it on your own.
Where strength of body,
or strength on mind
will not sustain you.
When you find yourself


up against the wall,
down and can't get back up
hurting
in pain
and there is nothing left of your will


I will be here for you.
Let me be your strength.
At the end of the day
When you are tired
and worn
When you are frustrated with life
and all its problems
I will be here for you.
Let me be your strength.
I will be here to comfort you
aid you
sustain you.


Let me be your secret strength.

Even...

a poem.


Even though he wears some clothes too big,
Even though he's not drop-dead gorgeous,
Even when he gets splotchy from allergies,
Even when sickness leaves him pale and lethargic,
Even if he gets a funky hairdo,
Even if he gets a scar,
he's still handsome.


Even though his hands and feet are big,
Even though he smiles wider than anyone,
Even when he wears sweatpants and a hoodie,
Even when he doesn't shake his head at my silliness,
Even if his facial hair attempts to escape him,
Even if he decides to change his fashion,
isn't he still handsome?


Even though he might not be the first one I wanted,
Even though the road ahead has some bumps,
Even when I am left speechless,
Even when I question everything,
Even if other girls surround him,
Even if I spend my days crazy over him,
he's still handsome.
Because he's my handsome.

It's In The Little Things

It's in the little things he does.
I don't know if he even realizes it.
How much one little deed can mean so much.
To be told Good Morning in the dawn,
Good Night just before I retire,
Is to be reminded that I am loved.
When he strokes my hair,
pushing it tenderly behind my ear,
it tells me he cares.
When he kisses my nose
it tells me I am cherished.
The way he says my name,
reminds me who I am.
The way he knows what I want,
without my saying,
is a phenomena so stunning to me.
Who is this lover of mine?
This complete mystery?
I look into his eyes and see the green of the sea,
intelligence, and adoration.
He holds the door for me,
lets me lead,
meanwhile watching the path ahead
to protect me from harm.
The way he takes my hand
just when I want him to,
the fit so perfect to astound one,
I have to sigh with delight.
I never thought I would find one like him.
Who would know just what to do,
yet in his youth never done it before?
Who would know to please me,
without question from either side?
A stranger to walk into my life,
then over time realizing
we would not do without.
Oh to know him fully,
to understand not just his mind and heart but soul,
such is my heart's desire.
Is he the one I've been waiting for?
Oh if only I could see.
But that which makes me question this,
and hope it is so,
That which makes me wonder,
what makes me ponder upon his affection,
and desire him more,
That which gives me pause,
and makes me stay by his side,
is all in the little things.

Love and War

They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


War is not fair. War is a horrible thing.
To fight over differences, territory, disputes,
to think you are better than the other,
is wrong.
To try to get on top,
to conquer, to destroy,
is wrong.
When siblings fight they retaliate.
One thing after the other.
Until a parent stops it.
To hold a grudge, to stay angry,
to try to prove yourself the greatest,
is wrong.
War must only happen to keep those
who desire you dead
from killing you.
War must be in self defense.
Never start a war.
Always finish it.
Because war is not fair.


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


Love is not fair. Love is wonderful thing.
To give your heart, your all to someone,
To put someone other than yourself first,
that is love.
To put aside differences,
to put away your push for survival to help others,
that is love.
And it is not fair.
There is corruption in the world.
No one deserves to be loved.
Especially in war.
To say You Are Loved,
to hold out your hand
to those who just tried to hurt you,
that is not fair.
Fair would be to return the favor.
Fair would be to hurt them back.
That's why war starts.
Because fair is twisted up in our minds.
Eye for eye.
Give what you are given.
That is fair. Or is it?


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


War is not fair.
Back and forth, on and on it goes.
Don't fight. Don't start a fight.
Don't try to prove yourself,
your own agenda,
your own idea of fair.


Love is not fair.
To give grace and mercy
to those trying to fight you,
who do not deserve retribution,
to go beyond fair,
that is love.


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


Fair is in the middle.
On one side is war.
Grown from hate and selfishness.
On the other side is love.
Out of choice and above fair.
We try to live in a world of fair.
To fit inside boxes of trade.
But there is war and there is love.
And this world is not fair.
And this life is not fair.


So we have a choice.
Where do we make it fair?
Or is fair simply an illusion?
Brought on to keep us from fighting?
Or to keep us from loving?
Fair is to keep us from giving too much of anything.
But sometimes we must fight.
Just remember never start the war.
Only finish it.
Always we must love.
So stand above fair.
And look to the Cross.
The Lover of Souls died not to make life fair,
But to end the War.
To fulfill Love.
Those who wanted war,
instead received forgiving Love.
It was not fair.
They did not deserve it.
We do not deserve it.
I do not deserve it.
But still I stand above fair.
Because I say with certainty:


I am loved.

The Cliff's Edge

Here I am.
The sands of time stretch out before me.
Far below under this rock.
This cliff on which I was begun.
I look out, wishing I didn't have to fly to reach the ocean.
But what else are my wings for?
Then I see him, a great bird on the horizon.
Calling my name,
asking me to fly with him.
How my heart does beat.
How I long to keep this lover of mine.
And yet I also long to fly alone.
To prove to all, even myself, that I need no other.
To hail God's Wind as my only companion.
Why do I fear?
Do I fear a cage?
That this lover of mine shall prove to be no better than the others?
That to resign myself to him
and become yet another nesting bird?
I was made for more.
If he cannot support my wandering heart,
then he should not pursue me.
I will not be a mother.
I will not be so.
I refuse.
All or nothing.
Either I will fly alone,
Or he will fly beside me.
But how do I know that he will support me?
How do I know that he is my future?
Only if he hears my cry and gives his all to me.
Only then will I fly to meet him.
The time draws near.
Either I will fly alone,
Or he will fly beside me.
When I take the dive,
either he will rise to meet me,
or he will fall away like a dream.
When the sun rises,
will I wake to see my days alone and strong?
Or will I wake to see my lover beside me?
Where does my freedom dwell?
If only I did not have to fly to reach the ocean.
I stand on the cliff's edge.

A Thousand Reasons

A thousand reasons, a thousand years,
a thousand turnings, a thousand words.
Hold back, hold back, not yet.
Give only after given.
Sing the song of love only after hearing it.
Is he true? Are you true?
Find the one, the one.
Stay safe, keep your heart for one.
So many reasons, so much advice.
But love is to be learned on its own.
Each in his own time.
No one can be told you will love this way or that.
No one can tell you who you will be.
Do not push, yet do not hide.
A thousand reasons to not tell what is there,
A thousand reasons to stay quiet,
Each one an argument of its own,
But not one of them can stand against truth.
Hide it no more.
Fear not rejection.
Love.
I took that step.
Even after my mistakes,
even after my fears of being abandoned for my past.
But when I said the words,
Immense joy and relief swept over me.
Do not contain what is meant to fly.
When forgiveness and love come,
do not reject it.
Return it.
Reciprocate.
Love.
And you will be set free.
A thousand reasons, a thousand obstacles,
but they cannot stand against
Love.
I have never been more free.




Thanks be to my God and Savior Jesus Christ,
for giving me the strength to love.
You love the whole world,
We love you because you first loved us.
Let me love the one who loves me.
I put my trust in You,
gave You my heart for guidance.
You have released my heart.
I am free in You.
Free to love him.
I am free.

Bleeding Heart

Every time I turn, he is there.
His heart is taken - I know just where.
He gave it to me though I deserve it not.
And indeed not expected in my life's lot.
To hold such devotion from him.
But then I remember and my heart grows grim -
All those I love I have hurt before.
In the future I see I may still hurt him more.
He gave vulnerable to me, which I fear I will betray.
Oh my wandering heart, would you be this way?
Shall he endure against such a flood?
Caress the rose and you will draw blood.
His spark caused my flame that may well destroy.
But I pray that he may become my joy.
Our love has just seen its start.
Would to God that I never break his heart.

Treoris

It is true that Dream was her chosen name
Toned of body, small of frame
Stately dragon with head held high
In grace and power she rides the sky.
Is she black, is she blue
is she red or golden hue?
Turn her about and you will see
Rainbow scales are hers incredibly
Iridescent flashes and armored wings
Princess of dragons the herald sings
Beware her wrath, all who oppose her
For her fires shall burn forever.
Such is the flame within her bright.
Wound her not, or else take flight.
But true beauty within her lies,
A heart of silver to match her eyes.
Welcome her if she comes to you
And you will find faithfulness true.
Small for a dragon, though she may be,
Her inner being is as vast as the salty sea.
Hold onto the Dream, hope that she stays
And awaken the dawn of glorious days.

A.O.T.S.P.

No one saw it coming.
Children played with them.
Companies used them to cushion everything in shipments.
So very useful.
So entertaining.
Lumpy, white, squishy, small.
Harmless little things.
The aliens lay in waiting,
right in plain sight.
Then it happened.
They spread, flying, leaping, catching the wind.
Across the highway, in the grass, on your car.
They're everywhere!
And they're not biodegradable!
Twilight zone has come again.
Run and hide.
No one's going to pick them up.
They're everywhere.
We're all going to die.
Well, if you eat them.
Poor little aliens.
Here to take over the world.
And their threat is the deer and your pet dog.


Attack of the Styrofoam Peanuts


Coming Soon...

You're Worth Waiting For

Stone by stone.
Heartache by heartache.
Pulling myself inside.
Not introvert, retrovert.
Refusing to show who I am.
Wearing a mask.
No more tears, no more pain, I said.
So I grew the walls of thorns,
Cursed myself with the hundred year sleep,
Lay on the bed in the highest tower.
I will never come down, I said.
What is this, a light at my window,
Shining from far below.
I see his face, I know his name.
Holding out a heart of light.
Calling to me, come down.
I say it will take time,
for me to take the stairs.
It will take time,
for you to rip down the thorns.
It will take time,
for me to find the key.
You will grow tired of waiting.
I should have warned you.
But he simply smiled and said,
You're worth waiting for.

Pickin' Petals

"He loves me, he loves me not..."
Pickin' petals.
Round and round.
Undressing the flower.
Depending on chance and number.
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
The war within wages on.
To give or not to give.
To love or not to love.
Round and round.
The battle goes.
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
But once the words professed,
Once the three words said,
Now comes the bend in the road.
The hard task at hand.
He loves you, does he?
Well then, put down the flower.
But is his love true?
Is it desire, friendship, lust, or trust?
Is it hope, greed, youth, or truth?
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
And so the petal picking changes its meaning.
The petals multiply.
No more daisies, let's find the roses.
But roses have thorns, pretty one.
Careful how you hold them.
Careful how you pick them.
Watch your movements girl.
Yes it is fun.
It is wonderful to be chosen.
But now it is your turn to choose.
No more picking petals young woman.
Is he worth the blood of a thousand roses?
Is he worth your love?
This is something you must answer on your own.
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
Ask not anymore if he loves you.
Put down the flower.
Asses your heart.
Ask if you love him.
For your choice will change you life forever.

In Time

     Just recently I was told to slow down, take my time at life. Told that I was young and would have more chances in the future. But right now all I want is some quality time. To walk side by side, enjoying good conversation or even silence. Would you deny me this? When all around me everyone is busy on their electronic devices and I have the opportunity to put it away?
     Yes, it's small now, but it could grow. Let me spend time with this person. Give me the knowledge and understanding. This may be the one to change my life. I'm not looking for more opportunities in the future. I'm looking for the opportunity. Social media causes people to not know how to behave when the time comes. Movies tell a different story than reality. A person's whole life can be read in a novel in two hours. And you want me to hold still?
     All my life I've learned things the hard way. Now I want to learn something new. I will fly or I will fall. Neither will happen if I just stand still and let the world spin on around me. Deny me the chance to walk side by side with someone and you deny me one day it becoming walking hand in hand.
     I know my own boundary lines. I know now what I like and don't like, what I want in comparison to what's good for me. I know now the things I will do and won't do. I've always done things at my own pace. I am an independent spirit. There is only one I change my rhythm for and that is God. So let me learn the passing of the sands of time.

Rain

Rain
falls
on
my heart
beats
fast
over mountains and valleys
up and down my soul.


Give
me
one
more chance
I'll
live
and die for you
you alone.


What is rain
that soothes my soul
calms my heart
clears my mind?
Send me rain
for this thirsty life.


Rain
touch
me
my soul
I
am
crying now with joy
spinning through my life.


Send me rain
for this thirsty life.
I'll go dancing in the rain
spinning round
arms flung wide.
You are my rain.


Catch
me
and
I'll come
to
your
heart my love
you alone in the rain.

Two Hearts

In times of decency and formality,
in moments where to touch is too much,
they stand a polite distance apart,
sharing only glances.
But once on their own,
and the faintest breath of freedom is tasted,
the gap is closed,
they stand close and hand in hand.
The magic of two hearts,
the creation of a new world.
Though our world still about them turns,
and crowds pass them by,
the change has been wrought.
People fade into the scenery,
but a moving and flowing landscape.
Trees wave and bend to give shade just for them,
every plant a joyful onlooker.
And when they stop to sit and rest,
leaning on each other in trust and comfort,
reality becomes Dreamland,
Time and Eternity pass each other by with a smile and a nod.
Two hearts forging a world of wonder.
And when the time to part comes down upon them,
the two hearts give each other the knowing glance:
they can come back to it,
the world they had just created,
and it is theirs and theirs alone.

Schedule

     Working retail, I understand following a schedule and getting there on time. I understand that the world revolves and keeps on turning even without us. We depend upon the clock and the toll of the bell. And if I were to quit my job or disappear off the face of the earth my position would be replaced. Someone else would be found to do the work I did. I am simply a little tiny gear in a complicated system. My work can be done by another. But the schedule must be conformed to. I have a hard time with this sometimes because I have my own time. My own perspective and enjoyments that must be heard too. But who else cares of me? The days continue to unfold. The ocean does not care about a little boat trying to keep from sinking. I am but a drop in the bucket.
     Round and round the world goes. Generations of workers, associates, and businessmen come and go. A business goes under, another takes its place for the need. Leaders and nations fall. Others rise. The pattern of the human race. The clock ticks on.
     When you look at it this way, you wonder, what is the point in life? It's all meaningless. Utterly meaningless. Solomon, history's wisest man, said the same thing. The book of Ecclesiastes describes the search for meaning in this world. Is life about money? Someone else gets it when you die. Is life about love? This person may give their life for you but you too will still die. Is life about passing what you know down to the next generation? They will make the same mistakes as you no matter how hard you may try to tell them not to and why. That is humanity. We all grow up on our own. We all die on our own. Is life about having that next generation? Parenting is hard and not all are cut out for it. And even more have children and leave everyone else to take care of them. So many orphans out there. Is life about happiness? Happiness is a choice and the dead don't feel.
     We are all on a schedule. Waiting for the unknown day when Death comes knocking. So we try to fill our days with meaning. Vanity of vanities. We can't figure out the meaning. And the world keeps on turning. Utterly meaningless.
     Except one thing.
     The meaning.
     Water to wine. Death to life. Scars of healing. The mystery of a power that changed the world.
     Tears divine that fell into the ocean.
     Colored a bunch of little drops and dropped them into the giant bucket.
     And the rings spread out, tainting the water.
     The Meaning has come: "Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, 'I find no pleasure in them.'" Ecclesiastes 12:1
     Our journey of searching for meaning has a meaning of its own. The One to give us joy, love, purpose, and a place in this world is here. When the One gave Life over to Death, Death was conquered.
     The meaning.
     Preparation for the Day after we have died. The return of Jesus as the Conquering King. Those of us who live for Him are waiting for His time. His schedule. Not the world's. His.
     His timing is perfect. Never forget.

Magic Moments

     There are times in everyone's life where a delightful moment seems frozen in time. A memory not easily shaken. The beauty of a landscape. The laughter of a child. Giving a much-needed gift. Holding someone's hand. Receiving the surprise of your life. The joy of an amusement park or curling up somewhere to rest after weeks of endless work. Something happens where the timing is just right. And it seems like magic.
     And we remember it. Is it because we have to, to make it through this life? Or is it simply because it leaves such a lasting impression? I have the same recall of four hours of long hard work as I have of a four minute walk down the street with someone that matters to me. One I look back on with relief it's over, the latter I can't believe it only lasted that long and wish I could relive that moment. And I do. In my mind. Closing my eyes, seeing again every detail, storing it away. It was not an intended or planned moment. And yet the timing could not have been better. That's what makes it so special.
     Who are we to remember those magic moments? Animals recall patterns, repeats. But us, we do something out of the ordinary or something that means something to us, it is seared into our minds. Are we all scribes, chroniclers at heart? Do we live to make those memories so that the seemingly pointless human life has something to look back upon when facing despair? Or is it because of a God who knows every hair on our heads and sees every moment of our lives and calls us special? Would it be that when history falls apart and the world cast on the edge of destruction, the Redeemer shall appear? Tell me that some moments are not magic then.
     Tell me that the times you wish would never end are no longer there. Tell me that all the times you laughed out of sheer delight do not mean anything anymore. Tell me that you are unloved, forgotten, neglected - and you never smile when a rainbow comes around after the rain. The magic moments are there. Just trust in God and your days will fill with magic moments.
     Sing hallelujah, we have been given blessing upon blessing. Shall we remember them?

Enchanted

There he is again.
Walking my way.
Only a few long strides between us.
Do I stay? Do I meet him?
It's unreal. The change within me.
What is it about him?
I hesitate and yet I want to run to meet him.
I am carried across the room with steps so light.
One moment on the far side,
the next moment face to face.
I ought to speak but no words come.
I remember the day we met.
He was just another handsome stranger.
I had no difficulty in talking then.
And when he left I thought nothing of him.
But he keeps coming back.
And now my days are filled with thoughts of him.
What does he see in me?
What goes through his mind when he looks my way?
I live in a world where a woman cannot trust.
Where she must be an Amazon and protect herself.
But that is not my life. Not what is right.
All my life I have been surrounded by protectors.
Men to lead and guide me.
My father and brother to trust in.
But to have one to call my own?
To have a stranger one day offer more
More than fealty and protection.
For him to offer support
and to love my independent spirit.
I have never been short of admirers and pursuers.
But I was told one day one would adore me.
Me? I who have ruined lives around me?
I who do not deserve a second glance?
I in my heart am like the prostitute Gomer.
I do not deserve a Hosea to love me.
I am always fleeting, never satisfied.
I am a Roxanne, desiring the intellect
yet falling for the pretty package.
Would God send a Cyrano my way
That I may be loved by greatness?
If such a blessing were to fall upon me,
I pray that I may not be too late to see it.
There he is again.
Walking my way.
He keeps coming back.

Struggles of the Heart

Fear. Trembling, unsure.
What has happened to me?
I once walked with the pride like that of noble birth.
The confidence of the beloved.
The assurance of my life in my hands.
But I placed my heart on my sleeve
And fell in love with what I ought not.
When I was rescued and the scar healed,
I knew then of my weakness.
And sought a wall of protection.
I placed cords across my heart.
No more. I said.
No more will I let my love be taken.
No more will I listen to deception.
But that's the thing.
How do I know?
Who do I trust?
I know my weakness.
I know I will love again.
But when is that time?
How am I to know?
Would loving again heal the scars?
Or would the betrayal I fear cause a deeper wound?
Oh, would I know my destiny.
To see all the twists and turns in the path before me.
And yet it is all or nothing.
To stay safe and lose an opportunity,
an opportunity that might be what's been waiting for me.
Or to risk it all for one final hope.
All or nothing.
I don't like it.
I'm not a risk taker.
I like to play it safe.
But is it not what I prayed for?
I'm an absolute in a world of middle ground.
I see black and white when all around me is grey.
I sing and smile to the world,
But will I blow kisses to the wind?
I live to impact other lives.
What if mine needs a change now?
But I recoil from the thought.
I don't want any more pain.
But love isn't love until you give it away.
I face the world.
They see me smile.
They do not know who I was before,
they do not know the battle inside me.
Do I make myself vulnerable once more?
I want to reach out again.
But you play with fire and you will burn.
I have the scars to prove it.
I glance across the table.
And our eyes meet.
To see welcome and love behind those eyes,
what would I give?
My own.
A smile is for everyone.
A kiss for those close to me.
And love? For one.
But I struggle to contain what I've clutched so tight.
Do I take the leap?
Do I let go?
Will I fall or will I fly?
Pray God there will be strong wings beneath me if I step over the ledge.
I bear the struggles of the heart.

Green

     Did you ever walk through a garden and pause to think instead of the variety rather the similarities? Almost every plant on Earth is green. Green because of something called chlorophyll in the cells of the plant. Incredible. A biologist would tell you down to minute detail the reason behind the green, but I'll make the simple out of the complex. There is a uniformity to this world. So much green.
     Speaking of this world, I find it interesting that they call Earth the Blue Planet. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's because there's so much water that when you back away from Earth it looks blue. Being that green is my favorite color, I much would have preferred it be called the Green Planet. And why not? How many planets out there have life, let alone so much foliage?
     When a child paints the bottom strip of his paper green, everyone automatically assumes it means grass. The green beneath our feet. Green has also been associated with life. Trees are especially common in myths and logos about life. When a plant dies it loses its green and slowly turns to grey and dust. Makes me wonder if the same would be said of us if we humans came in green.
     Some rather funny things about calling people green. Call someone a green thumb and you're calling him a gardener or one who likes to garden. Call someone a green worker (or apprentice, as the older phrase was) and you're calling him ignorant and inexperienced. Tell someone he looks green and you're saying he looks sick, unhealthy. Talk about green politicians and you would mean environmentalists. A bit confusing if you ask me.
     Did you notice where green is in ROY G. BIV? Yep, in the middle. Green is the center of the visible light spectrum. And you know what else? Everybody looks great in grass. Try it. Have your friend take a picture of you in the grass. (And hope your friend's a good photographer.) That and green can go with any other color. Take a regular green and a color wheel and spin it. And then change the tone of the green. See?
     Lime green. Neon green. Bright. Cheery. Bold.
     Dusty green. Soft. Foresty. Implies a summer's day just before the autumnal color change.
     Green. Plant green. Happy green. An overall pleasing color.
     Dark green. Royalty. Dead of winter. Evergreen.
     Green is the new black. Go out and wear green. And not just on St. Patrick's Day, okay?

Who Am I?

     I know I've talked about this before. But this is something I've been learning for quite some time now and it still impacts me.
     We live in a world of social media. So many methods of communication and keeping in touch with others. We can connect with the whole world. And every mistake you make can be broadcasted across our space and getting it removed and forgotten is harder than ever. So what do we do? We build walls.
     We develop ways of hiding ourselves. We wear a mask, smiling, nodding, pretending like everything's alright. Our deepest secrets we bury inside ourselves and hope no one comes our way to break down our self-made cage.
     Because that is what it is. My Hero spent his life on Earth with no cage, no walls, no mask. Said, "This is who I AM." Are we not to do the same? Are we not loved for who we are? Then why do we compare ourselves to others, hiding the imperfections and differences?
     Even I still do this. I should know better. But I still find myself trying to compare with others, to measure up to others. Asking myself, "What do they think of me? Have I done enough or gone too far?"
     We fear being unloved. We fear the pain of rejection. As a Christian there's another level added to that. To be told "I don't want your Jesus" hurts. A lot. And I started to question myself whether I actually believed what I did. I started to question my insanity and if it was worth it. Looking around I started to compare myself with those around me. Those who denied Jesus and used The Name as a curse word seemed to have it better than me. They knew who they were.
     Then I watched a coworker go through a relationship faster than I thought possible. She was so happy and in love and then it faded so fast. And she questioned everything too. Then she asked me why I was so happy all the time. Everywhere I turned people were telling me this. I was called cute, spunky, energetic, a rock star, twinkle toes, Cinderella, happy. They envied me. What did I have that they didn't?
     Nothing. Nothing except...my Everything.
     Even if I lost all my possessions, my home, my family, my friends, my health, I would still have my Everything. My I AM. God loves the whole world. I was only different from them in the fact that I took God's Love and ran with Him, my hand in His scarred hand. Who knew a Wound like that would meaning healing for my own? I am filled to overflowing with the love of God. And that love that forgave my sin set me free. Free to become the person God wants me to be. To stop comparing myself to others and stand up and say, "I know who I am."
     Joy may not be a great sounding name, but the meaning sums me up nicely. It is the tears of happiness when I'm singing to God. It is the smile across my face that came up out of nowhere and I haven't a clue why I'm smiling. It's the peace looking at the sunset or standing quietly on the mountaintop. It's the rush of riding river rapids or looking over the Grand Canyon. This is who I am.
     Has God shown you who you are?

Touch Your Soul; A Poem

For a friend.


Strong intellect. Strong spirit. What would I do to know you?
Sometimes I feel I could guess your mind.
And the words you speak confirm my suspicions.
And then you turn it around.
And say what I least expect.
Beautiful.
Forgive the word, but it's true.
You are unforgettable.
Even if I were to never see you again,
you are imprinted on my mind as long as I live.
Your smile. No one smiles like you.
Such a big, ear to ear grin.
People have said your smile's a little much.
A little much? No. It's so much.
So contagious.
It's wonderful.
What would I give to receive your smile everyday.
What has happened?
Have I gotten soft over the years?
Why do I care such about one I've just barely come to know?
What am I that you should glance my way?
What are you?
That I feel like I could confess it all and you would keep it safe?
That the pains you would forgive,
and the joys you would cherish?
Are you as I?
A secret keeper?
The kind of person that all feel compelled to share with you?
And you are not one to share it again?
Are you as I?
A mind and heart so full of dreams and ideas?
Look me in the eye.
Tell me you see as I see.
Know as I know.
Are you...
do you...
oh words, why do they fight?
Where once a flowing stream, now I have nothing.
I would blame you for stealing my words,
but you also stand in silence.
But let the silence stand. Even silence is bearable.
But your eyes stare into mine.
And a hundred questions swarm my brain,
I'm longing to search your mind.
I take you as you are.
Forget your past.
Let me see you now.
Stand before me.
And I will remove my glasses of prejudice,
suspicion, and my fears.
Do you care? Or am I just another passerby?
To touch your arm is one thing,
to touch your soul is so much harder.
I am a warrior, used to protecting myself.
But I want to put it away when I'm with you.
To simply be.
I'm opening up my hand.
I'm putting down the sword.
I want to tell you my Insufferable Vision.
My Recurring Dream.
But to surrender this?
My hands are shaking like leaves.
Should I wait? Would you know what to do with it?
Would you laugh in my face? Turn away from me?
Strong intellect. Strong spirit. What would I do to know you?

Do You Know Me?

Do you know the color of the minx's eye?
Did you hear the song of the nightingale?
Have you tasted the willow's tears?
Do you know the color of the fox's pad?
Did you ever hear the babble of the spring?
Have you smelled fresh earth after the rains?
Do you know me?


Have you seen the joy in the eyes of a child?
The wisdom in the eyes of his grandfather?
Do you feel the world spinning beneath your feet?
Did you drink from the well of Eternity?
Have you run through a field of grass with laughter on your lips?
Have you stood by a crowd and cried for the lost?
Do you see the world as if a stranger?
Did you ever make a stranger your friend?
Do you know me?


You might know my smile.
You might know my favorite color.
My favorite food, my favorite band.
You could even know what goes on inside my head.
You might know my name.
You might know my family.
My house, my friends.
You could even know my secrets and my dreams.
But would you know me?


My lifetime I have spent learning to know people.
The longer I've been at it,
The more I realize just how complicated you are.
Every snowflake is a masterpiece.
How much more a thinker?
Mathematician?
Artist? Or Singer?
How much more are you made in the Image.
You are as beautiful as the world,
More complex than any computer.
You carry a brain inside you like Einstein,
A motivation as Luther.
I could spend my lifetime learning one life.
And still not know all of you.
I do not even know the full extent of myself.
How do I impact other lives?
Am I worth living for?
Do my words change people's lives?
My actions influencing others?


Oh the mystery of humanity.
Would I give myself to know you?
Oh humanity.
What a wonder.
And yet we are as grains of sand.


Our Creator is the Great Mystery.
Our complication is simple to God.
I want to lose myself to know my Lord.
Jesus alone knows me.
And knows you. Everyone.
What it would be to know God fully.
And yet here I am on earth,
trying to learn of humanity.
Made in the image of God.
A Masterpiece.
Do you know me?
Perhaps you do.
As much as I know you.
But to know as God knows.
That would truly be knowing.
Do you know me?

The Cleaning Song

     As I was driving through town I noticed an elderly man with a small shop broom sweeping his sidewalk clean of the abundant yellow leaves that had fallen from his tree. Technically the sidewalk's not his sidewalk. The city owns it. But it sits in front of his house. So he keeps it clean.
     It's a shame more people don't look at things like that. It may not be yours, but you used it, so clean it up. You used trash, throw it in the garbage. Don't leave it everywhere. You use it, you clean it. A simple mentality. But a wise one.
     You eat somewhere. Don't leave crumbs. Pick up the leftovers. You chew gum. Throw it away when you're done. Don't spit it on the ground or stick it under a counter, chair, or table. You cause something to fall over. Put it back. Don't make someone else do it. You grab something from a store hook or shelf and decide later - halfway through the store - that you don't want it. If you remember where you found it, go put it back. If not, find a store associate and ask them to put it away for you. Don't just dump it.
     But you rarely see this happen anymore. What happened to being considerate of others? Why do people just leave things? Is it because of the entitlement mentality? Mommy pick it up for me? It ain't mine, someone else put it away. I don't care, someone else will pick it up. How incredibly rude and self-centered.
     It takes two seconds to pick up a wrapper and two seconds more to drop it in a trash can. That's four seconds of your life spent being considerate of others. A sentence's worth of conversation. The time of walking from one room to another. Is it too much to ask to spend a handful of seconds more to throw away what had encased your lunch?
     I know, I know. This sounds so incredibly hypocritical coming from someone who can't stand dusting and never takes the time to reorganize anything at home. It's kinda funny how neat and clean I am while at work but then you see my home and think how cluttered my life is. I can't help but laugh as I write this. It's true. I spend my days cleaning up a store left a mess by customers and then when I come home I just toss my stuff down and flop in bed or on the couch or at my computer desk, never bothering to put it away. Thinking of myself like this, I think I might appear a bit two faced. But truth is I'm not. When I'm shopping I put stuff back that I change my mind on. When I'm at an event I put things away the way I find them after I use them. I eat somewhere I always clean my place. I keep my stuff in a locker and hang my coat up at work instead of intruding on the rest of the break room.
     But when it comes to my home, I don't care about the mess. I like the frustration of trying to find things and having to reorganize eventually. It keeps things different for me. I like some spice in the monotony of the workweek. Yes, I've had to share room with people before and I've always kept things clean and organized (or concealed the mess in my suitcase.)
     Other people like clean everywhere. I've known more than a handful of neat freaks in my life. So when I'm at work or I know a friend is coming over, generally a cleaning spree ensues. I'm thinking of them.
     I'm looking at you dear reader. Are you keeping things clean for others? "Clean up, clean up. Pick it up, put it away."
     Is there something you can pick up today?

I Write By Candle Light

Flame.
A state of energy.
Heat and light.
Material burning.




Candle.
A molded wax form
encasing a string.
Set alight:
Material burning.




Candlelight.
Used in stories and analogies.
Seen inside and outside.
In homes and public places.
Why is it still a favorite?
Is it warm and comforting?
Is it an easy way to illuminate the dark?




Candlelight.
A little flame. A big hope.
A little light. Bringing change.




Oh, to be a flame.
To be a candle.
So many want the fires of leadership.
Or stardom.
To be the greatest,
the most remembered.
The one to mark history.
Me?
I'm just a candle,
carrying a little Flame.
But this Flame will never die.
Even after my time is over
and this candle is gone.
The Flame will live.
For is lives on in other little candles like me.
Though my name be forgotten,
my life remembered no more,
still the Flame lives on.
Enemies will try to snuff Him out.
They even killed Him.
Still the Flame lives on.




I'm just a candle,
carrying a little Flame.
I write stories, I tell tales.
I pass on word of the Flame.
I write by the Light that I accepted into my heart, my candle.
I write by candle Light.

Too True Tango

     I am a lover of dance. I find that I enjoy watching (and/or dancing) almost every known dance there is. But recently I discovered the Argentine Tango.
     Now I know that many people make Tango out to be a romantic dance or a sexy dance, but the truth is far from it. The Tango is entirely a dance of communication. That's why the phrase "two to Tango."
     What is Tango? A dance of partnership. When a man asks a woman to dance the Tango with him, he is asking her, in silent contract, to follow his movements and obey his steps. And she, when offering her hand to be led into the dance is agreeing by her actions to follow him blindly. (Sometimes quite literally: I find I am the better dancer when I close my eyes. I also enjoy it more.)
     It is the man's dance. It is his job to decide where they go along the floor and what steps to take and, by his movement and strength of hold, to communicate this to his partner so she can follow in a split second so they stay in time to the music.
     It is the woman's dance. She is the crown jewel. In heels and graceful, gliding steps she commands the room. If she cannot follow him, she must stay still so no one watching knows the mistake.
     It is a dance of the senses. The partners hands meet on one side and embrace on the other. Humans are tactile creatures. Even something as simple as a dance hold can change your perspective. Your ears hear the music, you feel your own heartbeat. A simple pleasure to close my eyes as I am led around the dance floor. Beautiful.
     Now I know quite a few men out there who either don't like dancing or don't know how to dance and are embarrassed to try. If you can walk, you can be taught how to dance. Many women out there appreciate men to can dance or have the guts to at least try. Ballroom dancing was once a social norm. Now not so much. A shame. Men who dance have a tendency to be more chivalrous than others because they are taught to respect women. I hope, dear reader, that this new generation will try to Tango. It's not complicated, it just takes some steps.
     And the first step is to not be afraid of dancing in the first place. 

Tomorrow

Why do tomorrow what you can do today?
They all say the same.
Chase it all, get it done.
Follow your dreams,
do not procrastinate.
Why put off what can be done now?
I asked the same.
Some days I still ask it.
But then the sun sets.
Another day lost.
And I still haven't met my goals or found my dream.
Where has the time gone?
Where is my life?
Portions tucked away in memories.
Parties and chores,
faces of friends,
hugs from the family,
pain and laughter,
long dreadful days,
quick fleeting feelings,
that crush she had,
that arm he broke.
Memories only now.
Time that once was now is not.
Today become yesterday and the past.
Was it all a waste of time?
I feel old.
So many memories and not enough done.
I spend so much time
eating, sleeping, staring off into space.
Traveling from one job to the next
while my mind is already there.
People remind me that I'm still young.
That I have all the time in the world
ahead of me to find my dream
and fall in love too.
And I smile with them and agree.
But inside I know it all must end.
I do not have Forever on Earth.
Even Earth will die someday.
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe I will die tomorrow.
Maybe I will go home.
Perhaps the sun will rise,
to set one last time in glory.
Or perhaps it will be just another day.
Like yesterday.
Like today.
Will tomorrow be the same?
Will I get another chance to reach for my ideal?
Do I have a lifetime still ahead of me?
Do I have all the time in my world?
But I feel as if I've spent a lifetime already.
Where shall I be tomorrow?
Same as today?
Then isn't tomorrow today already?
How the days of my life have blurred together.
Life has become monotonous.
I have become a thrill-seeker.
Spending what little time I get away from work
watching action and romance films,
reading thrillers and fantasies.
I am a recluse but still hunger for the social.
The grind of the workplace
the demand of others
pull at the feathers of the bird.
I feel caged, clipped.
Shall I ever fly?
I am the butterfly awakening from its cocoon.
Is there nowhere I can rest
before I seek my flower?
Where shall I run but back to my God?
Where can I turn but to my Savior?
I am a footprint on the seashore.
I shall be washed away at the tide.
Where is my tomorrow but in the hands of my God?
Am I a fly that tomorrow will be one day too late?