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.