I'm so glad I'm not always right

"I knew You'd never forgive me.
And I was wrong.  And I'm so so sorry."

You banished me from the garden

for
    my
         own
                good
                but
                ultimately
                for
                Your
         own
                glory.

Dig me up
                by my roots
and plant me
                back where
life is fresh
                and brand new.

Tumbleweeds (or Seasonal Snowballs)

I didn't imagine the snowballs would be bigger in Texas.  Here they're just called tumbleweeds.  Here my mind fractures and gathers fertilizer to expand its cracks.

I try to sit down to get one thing done.  Then all I do is sit for hours avoiding work.  I've got to get going somewhere.  Currently the only place I'm going is crazy and I don't know how to get back on the right track.  I'm not myself anymore, though I don't want to be my medicated self.  I'm not the one I like to be, though have I ever been?  I feel like I'm running in circles and I'm not even moving.  I feel like I need to be kicked, and kicked hard.  My mind races in slow motion.  My heart says don't let me fall out of life and that there's little motivation.

The world is falling apart.  It's spinning out of control and no one seems to be here to stop it.  If I attempt to stop and solve one thing, the china I'm carrying fall to the floor.

Inject me with some adrenaline.  Perhaps I need the motivation.  Though, I don't want to just be given more energy.  Then I really will go crazy.  Some days I make a list and it works.  Some days I make a list and it makes my heart shrink.  Where do I start?  Have I waited too long on some of these things?  It's as if someone is punching me in the head over and again.  It's not a headache though; my mind runs rampant and I can't really stop it.  So I try to sleep and hope to wake up to it being better.

This, again, is depression with the flavor of anxiety.  It's bitter in my mouth.  I try to remember eating something not tarnished with the bitter flavor and little comes to mind.  My mind is a measuring rod, ever stretching, though not expanding.  Inside is a fish swimming and these incomplete thoughts consume me.

Who is going to make it better?  I'm breaking from the inside out.  I can't always go on like this.  If I'm always relying on others then eventually loneliness will be lonelier.  Though I must be humble enough to accept help from others.  Forget the independent nature of this western nation.  Will the motherland ever take me back?  Still, I don't belong here and I know it.  Likewise, "this world has nothing for me and this world has everything."  It all depends where you're looking and which world you're talking about.

Perhaps I'll just end this with a simple request:
help.

With what, I'm not sure, but I just feel I could use some help.

Insight from Someone on the Inside

It just feels so good to talk about it.  I'm not trying to say that that's the only way that it's true, but it sure does help.  The tears welling up felt so good, and perhaps that was necessary.  Maybe that will keep Saturn's rings at bay.  Or rather, around my head they will not stay.  It's like something's moving outside me, though I know it's coming from the inside.  Does that make any sense to you?  How do you describe something to someone when you yourself think you're crazy?

Who needs onions?  I've got life experiences.  Maybe you're right, confrontations are just a part of life.  I can think about so many things, like what needs to be done, but when the rings begin circling again I'm stuck.  Or am I running?  I don't want to feel this way but I don't really know how to describe it without seeming crazy, or without it appearing that I'm making it up for attention.  I'm really not, you know.  These thoughts really are distressing.  They're very real.  So much so, they seem to manifest themselves as something other than thoughts.  These cognitions feel more like apparitions that I cannot see but nevertheless feel very real.

In addition to Saturn's rings, they sometimes manifest themselves in the form of an old film.  The horizontal lines travel down my upper body, staying mostly near my head.  It doesn't feel any better, in case you were curious.

How can I write down my automatic thoughts, their behaviors, and alternate thoughts to challenge them with all of this going on inside?  I try to do that but it seems that I get stuck during the first two steps, most times ruminating on the first.  Yes there are times that I make it all the way to the point of developing challenging thoughts, but they don't seem to be very productive.  They are made of much less substance than the automatic thoughts and the behaviors associated with them.  Perhaps, as I've previously thought, it is not the primary thoughts that really seem to matter, but rather the secondary thoughts.  This is particularly true when the initial thoughts are incomplete, meaning I know their potential or where they are leading and I don't allow my mind to think them all the way through.

So after all, it seems like some of the verbalization does seem to help.  Maybe especially as an extroverted recharger living alone in a new city.  It's not that new to me, but it's still only been a year.  There is still much to be explored, so we'll see where the stairs lead from here.  I don't want to find my identity in someone else, unless it is the One that really matters.  However, excessive time to myself doesn't only lead to regret.  It is also a feeding grown for negativity and beginning to believe some of the falsehoods.  Therefore, if I talk your ear off please forgive me, very few responses may be necessary, just let me know you're here.  Let me know you hear.  And validate the truth.  And challenge the lies.

Please
and
thank you.

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CreativityTension(&)ReleasedLungs

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Not Quite In-Between, but a Helpful Description

"My name it ain't nothin',
my age it means less"

Is there a blindfold on your heart's eyes?  Or perhaps better put it, maybe its ears have been covered and something's muzzling the sound coming from this direction.

"can't waste time
when it comes time
to dance"

I've even had words here but sometimes you take them from me.  You don't steal them.  Maybe it's just that I don't properly seal them.  Therefore, I think thoughts thoroughly and by the time my mind and hands have the time to speak the translation has gone missing.  So I don't blame you, and really who could?  In fact, these words must have a better purpose.  And who knows, perhaps in the future a manuscript in my mind will be found and my hands will be better equipped to transcribe the cognitions at that time.

There are sometimes words that make little sense to anyone around.  Sometimes they're for later.  Sometimes they might just be clouds of verbal air.  And still, sometimes they might be a vessel for yet unknown truths.

I'm really not sure what it all means but life is still the in-between.  In-between is often all there is.  All we have.  If we live from event to place to mountaintop to valley, life wouldn't be living, it'd be hopscotch.  Or it would be leapfrog.  As much as we may wish for it to be one of those things, it's important to live in the flat moments.  The gray moments.  The Swiss moments.  Flat lines and endless paths, hallways and seemingly endless roads, they all are in-between.  And though they are in-between, they are still life.

Do not forget
that, they are
still life.

And for those who remain curious,
"the country
I come from
is called
the Midwest"

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ClientTherapistReporting(&)Legality

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ConnectionTechnologyRelationships(&)Love

A Simple Hello

"Hello my old heart" and there sure "ain't no gift like the present tense."

We'll get there is how I somehow want to start this one.  Or something about when we'll get there, but the truth is we're already here.  Maybe the key is not in the seeking to find, not the escapism but the contentment (not complacency) in who, what, when, and where we are.

So that's really it for this one, but if you look further, though not farther, you'll soon find more, unless you've already found it, which I imagine you have.

Does Out-of-Body Stem From Within the Body?

In this out-of-body experience it's hard to feel myself.  I'm not saying it's hard to feel a thing.  On the contrary,  I feel much when my mind is outside my brain.  Is it brokenness?  Is it mental illness?  Is it a diet destruction?  Or perhaps it's a demon seeking to demonstrate his power.  I'm not really sure what it is, left or right, up or down.  What I do know is that it's distressing.  Not exactly depressing because it's not really sadness.  Though at the same time it can seem darker.  Yes somehow it's darker, though it's like looking through cellophane at my surroundings, all the while trying to make sense of the words that my ears are hearing.  Have I told you yet: it's difficult to describe, perhaps even harder to to discern.

And then, in those moments when my mind returns to the space between my ears, the words I hear are all bleak.  That may not always be the case, though it was on this night.  I was fortunate to be able to decompress these thoughts with others this time.  Not only that, but I was encouraged to discover that the bleakness I felt was not just in my own head.  The illness demonstrated didn't seem to be a resounding theme for others however.

Even now, as I type some of this out and wrestle with its meaning and purpose I begin to feel the phantom inside my head trying to make its way out into the open.  I suppress it's eagerness to escape, or to even be given the chance at life.  However, it is far from my desire to imprison it within my own mind.  I could let it free, if it was up to me, but could I live with myself if that meant it would be tormenting someone else?  Someone, perhaps, whose will may not be as strong?  Or maybe I could take measures to mask it with other feelings and poor interpretations and rationales as to what and why it is.

When I felt it earlier, it felt as a tangible weakness.  It was as something I could touch with my third eye, though I could not push it away.  I could occasionally tuck it away so as to focus on the words my ears were hearing, but it only came back, sometimes stronger than before.  Then I had a strange epiphany: could these be the moments where I am stronger in weakness?  So I prayed.  I didn't really know what to say, but I prayed.  Though they may not have seemed like the right words, or even many words at all, they seemed to be just enough.  Again, I'll reiterate what I've said before, that the God we serve is not a formula.  It is not because I said the right thing at the right time that I began to find some peace in my experience.  No, it is through grace that I receive what I do not deserve.

So now I'm just sitting here reflecting on the moments that have passed me by.  Meanwhile, I periodically feel the phantom stretching himself, trying to escape to where he's just outside my head though still somehow in my mind.  Who can understand the visible spectrum we live in?  Perhaps the colors we don't see hide the spiritual realm.  We don't appear to be meant to see beyond our scope, though at times some individuals are given brief glimpses into that invisible world that surrounds us and perhaps somehow also lives inside us.  As for my current situation, I will move forward in the sensory world, though aware that there is more beyond these five input systems.  There has to be.  I can feel it!

Something about the Moon

There's something about the moon.  That mystery.  That magic.  The way it seems to hang from the sky so nonchalantly.  Not a care in the world.  It's not even in the world.  She's content to shine as she feels throughout the month.  Some days she'll only reveal a part of herself and she is totally fine with that.  She doesn't feel the need to conform to the world's standards.  She knows she'll be accepted no matter the circumstances.  The stars won't abandon her to the sun, even if she chooses not to show up one night.  She's content.  She isn't looking to find herself in someone else.  She's humble.  She doesn't mind receiving the warmth of the sun and accepts that he may ever be her only source of light.  She doesn't accept it as one without choice or self-determination.  Nor does she accept it begrudgingly.  She just trusts.  She doesn't fear a lack of acceptance, but rather is content to know that she will always be provided for.  She may be the sun's stepdaughter, though you wouldn't know from her words.  She doesn't mouth off to her companions about how he mistreats her, for after all he doesn't.  He actually loves her well and she is thankful for it.  Nor does she sit in silence for fear of being heard.  She knows exactly what she needs.  There's that glow, though silent, she speaks words long hidden but somehow understood through the generations.  If she smiling down on you, the least you can do is smile back.

Perhaps Tomorrow Will Consist of More Thorough Thoughts

You can't sell the Gospel.  God will not be exploited.  His love will not be your ploy.  His message will not be the sideline to get to your point.  I am convinced.

I cannot sit back and be lukewarm.

Take me far away from here.  Keep me close and draw me near.  I've found the perfect path and am still looking.

The heat evaporates my energy.  The love relaxes my muscles.  I cannot make it.  I can.  Because I is we.  You're here with me.  You have called me "Not abandoned."  You have chosen me, not forsaken. How can I repay You, but to live every part of me in You?  It's so hard, but You're true.  You know what I need.  You are what I need.  In You I am complete.

The words may have once again evaporated, though some remain.  We'll leave it here this time.  We'll make it.  We'll make it out alright.  Or more than fine.

Gracias por Tu Gracia

Grace.  You're teaching me grace.
Given freely, though I far from deserve it.
You can try to work toward it.
Or try and pray harder, clearer, more sincere,
but it won't matter.

Grace.  We don't earn it.
We don't deserve it.
And grace.  It's all we need.

Some days I'll work harder,
some days I feel like fodder destined for fire.
Like it'd be better to chain me
with a fetter.

And somehow
You're grace comes creeping in.
You save Your grace
for the perfect place.
The perfect time
and the perfect space.

But what about mercy?
The emphasis there
seems on the life to come.
Still, let mercy abound
and show me how to
share this gift I've found.

It seems to please You
to give freely,
to give when
we least expect it.

Increased effort
to earn Your grace
will never put us
in an advanced place.

Grace is all over this place,
You let us soak it in.
You pour over us
and You don't hold back.

Perhaps sometimes
this grace is Your embrace.
A way to show us
You're still here.
To say,
"I've not forgotten you,
now don't you forget me."

Job had patience,
still somehow
his faith was not wavering.
He trusted You
and that's all he needed.

Of all people
he seemed the most eligible.
Grace is patient faith.
Job did nothing
deserving of disgrace
and he was met with destruction.
Still somehow he waited.
He knew He could
count on Your grace.

Thank You for still
letting me experience it
in this place.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

El Corazón cursivo

All things go.  All things go.  How can it be both of us?  How is it the same?  Who knew there could be a love that is so mutual?  It's teaching me of the love I must love.  And it's a reflection of the love I'm made of.  How can this be true?  How can you want me like I want you?

When you're through with my heart don't tear it apart.  I give it to you and I trust you.

How long will you embrace me?

How long will this face be

so close you can almost taste me?

I'm asleep.

Asleep with words just leaking out.

There's a flood inside, though not of words.

There's a flood inside, I'm full of emotion.

Pick me up in your boat.

I'm drowning in your ocean.

I go crazy and somehow come back again.

I get lazy and work so hard again.

I fall asleep and it's hard to wake up in this reality.

Life is a dream and I imagine I'll wake up soon.

Help.

Don't leave.

Help.

There is love.

Love is enough.

Love is strong.

Love is vulnerability.

Love is like in the shape

of a sideways eight.

Love means yes

we'll wait.

You'll make it.

We'll make it.

I'll make it.

Examine my heart

and try not to scrape it.

It's been battered and bruised,

tattered and torn,

broken to pieces,

and often reborn.

These words are like longhand

from my heart;

they're so intricately connected,

so finely woven together.

They flow so freely

and my heart rolls out.

It's putty on pages

living love in stages,

earning silently its wages,

remembering intently

the words of the sages.

Don't leave.

Don't think.

Don't listen

to the words

not spoken.

Just Enough

There was an "L".  There is an "L".  You're worth it.  You remind me.  I'm worth it.  It's so much easier to see the opposite.  The ease with which I see does not reflect the degree to which it's true.

Slow down people.  We may have milestones to meet, obstacles to overcome, and seas to sail, but life is here, today.  Have you ever caught anyone living?  Have you caught yourself sleeping through this present reality?  Life may sometimes seem as a dream, and at other times it's a nightmare you want so badly to escape, to overcome.  You cannot escape this life.  You're living.  You might as well make the most of it.  You're not living anyone else's life, so why do you compare?  Don't compare, for comparison will rob you of yourself.  One day you'll look back and wonder where you went.  Why work so hard to be someone else when all along you've been you, the closest and most accessible individual available?  But don't not compare just because I have said.  Don't not compare because it out of you, I did scare.  Commit to living to your full potential and you will see how the Lord will work.

You shall not steal; perhaps that includes another's individuality.  Don't dwell so much on what you are or who you're not.  Creation has but one you.  Even twins are not the same.  There's no double you.  Embrace life.  Embrace it with death.  For if you do not embrace the death you may fall into the trap of living for something here, where moth and rust destroy.  Likewise, fear not the one who can only maim or destroy your body and has no power over your soul.

Love
for the day is near
and the day is here.

Listen
for it is no good
to merely hear.

Life is Teamwork Between Bodies and Members

Dear Expectations,

You're ruining my reality.  You're prolonged exposure.  You're overthinking.  All that you look for and all your extensive "research" and planning expose me to seemingly endless options.  I've got a good thing going and you rob me of my joy by reminding me there's more.  Endless options cripple my commitment and fuel my desire.  When we're absent something seems to eat at me and I don't like it.  It seems real, it seems sincere, but so does the rest.

I value the time we share but have I lifted it too high? Do I just need some rest?  Who will win the race between my competing thoughts?  When we spend so much time hoping, longing, and expecting, are we bound to experience unfulfillment?  I guess there is truly just One that will satisfy.

I mustn't think too much, though I mustn't run from thinking.  Don't dwell on fodder for the fire, but don't forget to admire the lilies in the field either.  Life is a balance, though don't make it lukewarm.  Do we seek the middle ground or do we look beyond ourselves?

Expectations, you're destroying me from the inside out.  Expectations, you're corroding my heart and soul.  My mind says you're the rational way to go, but my heart says love (and life) is irrational.

Pay no attention to my lack of attention.  Don't dwell on the absurd.  It's a dangerous drum circle, enticing you with a steady rhythm.  The smoke within shouts your name, trying to convince you that it knows you.  After all, it knows your name, is that not a leap in the right, connected direction?  Don't believe it though.  How many are there with whom you've shared your name?  Even automatic emails know that.  Don't creep closer.  Don't fall in.  The rhythm that you're making and the beat that you're following will lead you in the right direction.  Keep walking, unless you're looking to give up your mind.

Let your heart and head work together and follow the necessary Path.  All else will lead to destruction, unfulfilled dreams, a lack of interest, and a poor vicarious life.

Turn the Lights Back On and Wake Up!

Dear Destruction,

You are my downfall.  You live inside me and I can't rid myself of you.  You disguise yourself in such convincing clothes.  You prance around me with your enticing looks.  Even the times that you're not disguised you somehow get a hold of me.

My heart spins around and tries to close its eyes. It turns its back on my rational self.  "You're on your own," it says, "don't come crawling back to me for an excuse.  This wasn't my decision."

I fall further.  deeper.  faster.

You're so pleased.  You dance during my downfall.  You rejoice in my pain.  You stab me with a sly smile.  You break skin and leave me to fend for myself.  You stab me again, this time disguised as a sweet embrace.

You're not welcome here.  My heart is trying to remain intact.  You're a tac hammer.  A chisel.  You eat away at my progress.  You fight for the wrong team and get me to cheer you on.  Then I wake up from underneath your blindfold and am destroyed.  Destroyed in guilt.  And shame.  And am reduced to a face without a name.  No one will want this.  It's all just a shame.  You win time and again, all the while working to conceal my escape route.

But.
It's big.
The smallest light removes any trace of permanent darkness.  If darkness is the absence of light, I become found.  I wake up free, though not without the guilt inside me.  I may wear some of these sores on my sleeve but it feels so much darker inside sometimes.  It's hard to find a flashlight when the power's out.  Someone chips away and it feels like it's coming from within.  Sin can disguise itself in good works and great intentions.

Shine a light.  Shine a light.  Shine a light.
Wake me up I'm falling for the slightest sin.  I'm breaking from the war within.  No one will hear me if I do not speak.  And what of those who are too ashamed themselves?  Is that why I'm here?  Again.  Is there really "a meaning to it all"?  "A little resurrection every time I fall"?

"Don't listen to the automatic thoughts," they say.  Or, "Write them down and allow yourself analysis.  You won't give them power.  On the contrary, your lack of acknowledgement right now is what is fueling their fires.  Write them down.  Speak them out.  Show them that they are not valid.  Show them that you won't be fazed.  That your rationale will overcome.  Or perhaps it's not a rationale.  Maybe it's just the truth.  Or the Truth."

You'll make it out alive.  Though truthfully you'll die.  Unless the Return arrives before your departure, you'll likely die.  Death is just a part of life.  Or maybe it's not a part of life, but rather an introduction instigated by a conclusion.  And at the same time I must learn to die daily.  It seems exhausting, though simultaneously absolutely necessary.  You won't feel the same when you die.  You'll be refreshed.  Every day you don't die to yourself a little bit of yourself dies instead.

Wake up!  It's time to die so much that you can't help but live.  Don't concern yourself so much with the future.  Don't dwell on the past.  You'll make it.  You've made it.  This time here in the hallway is still life.  Do you realize that?  You're living.  It may not feel like it, but even these moments in-between the two doors are a part of something.

If you wake up you'll see.  And don't wake up because you're told to.  Wake up because there are no other choices!  Living your life underneath your eyelids will only increase the darkness.  And no, I don't mean to incite guilt in your heart.  Just know that when you wake up you won't regret it.

Live every moment with a "Good morning" mentality.
Acknowledge yourself.  Acknowledge others.
Accept yourself and accept others.
This life isn't yours to throw away.
So use it wisely before your soul gets recycled.

"Show me the world that's inside your head"

"Do not ask the price I pay,
I must live with my quiet rage.
Tame the ghosts in my head
that run wild and wish me dead."

When You find me broken
do You break me further?
Is the breaking a part of
the being made whole?

Or perhaps that's not such an easy answer.
Sometimes You increase the brokenness
to make room for Yourself
and other times my brokenness is just mine.

Though it's never just mine.
You're always near
even when I'm here.

I can never save myself.
No one else can save me.
No one but You.

I'll fall deeper,
I'll fall faster.
Nothing can keep me afloat
in this raging ocean.

You're the storm
and the life raft.
You're the hug
and the shove.
The embrace
in my disgrace.

I don't deserve a single ounce
but somehow You make me worthy.
Thank You for the mirrors You've provided us.
We can see ourselves in Your people.
They're not perfect.  No one is flawless.
Still You love them regardless.

A man after Your own heart?
A lustful man?  A man with blood on his hands?
You don't place before us
unreachable standards.

You don't say, "Do this" and "Don't do that."
You love with open arms.
You run toward us.
Though our clothes are stained
with tears and filth,
You run to our aid and embrace us.

We don't deserve acknowledgement
and You don't require extensive knowledge of it.
You offer it freely.
Your love because
You're love.

Grace is grace is grace.
I'll never deserve an ounce.
Still You're the same
no matter the place.
You'll never let me down.

"Does it almost feel like you've been here before?"

This is the world we live in.  The best moments border broken hearts.

I miss you while you're here and my smiles remain.  Something stays inside me when you leave.  I gaze into your gaze.  Just holding you in my arms is enough.  And we're beyond physical touch.  You've got personality.  We can have fun regardless.   One of these days we'll invite MC Hammer on our date.  We'll show him.  As for right now, I feel as though I'm holding my heart in my hands.  All these feelings are fresh inside me.  I feel you inside, or right here beside me.  The emotion I'm soaking in, is enough, it could hide me.

The cracks in my skin are molded together.  They're in their perfect place.  Every stitch has been sewn in perfection.  I'm in arms and we'll make it.  We'll make it together.  If honesty's the best policy then this relationship's great.  If words aren't your strong point, it's okay I can wait.  I've got time to spare and we've got space for air.  We'll make it out alright.  If I asked you to escape my swelling mind, you'd only return to my heart next time.  I've got oranges, I've got milk.  And your heart inside mine, smoother than silk.

We Don't Always Need Answers

If every day is a dream, what is waking?  Where are the hearts and what causing screaming?  If life is always brand new, where is rust?  What will then become of us?  If life is eternal but You're the end, what is eternity?  And if we end, what happens then?  If the Alpha is also the Omega, and yet He lives in me, what am I?  If it doesn't matter who I am or what I do, how can You trust me?  If You know it all but allow me choices, then who births the choices?  From whom are the voices?  If standing before You is impossible, then where will my legs go?  If it's only my soul (and perhaps my heart) that remain, what will be the celestial body?  If what I'm in is just a tent, who pitched it?  And why can't we start out greater?  If it doesn't matter what we do, why are we here?  If my words have power, how can I be powerless?  I can make a difference, but is everything already set?  Are we just chipping away at the knowledge You give us?  If You are Love and I am made in Your image, am I just a slice?  How do You make us and live inside?  Are You the photographer and the image?  If the key to life is love, why can it be so hard?  And if all You want is for us to love You, why is it hard to be true?  And if You're the beginning and the end, what's Your plan when we are done?

Love is Not a Contract

You had love and you ruined it.  There was hope and you dashed it to the ground.  I gave you all you asked for and you still seek more.  What more do I have to show you?  When will you learn?  I've done so much for you.  Why won't you let me love you just as you are?

You may break our covenant but it's not a legal contract.  I'll give you another chance.  I'll let you come back to me.  My love is not an apartment that you can lease whenever you want to.  It's not something that waits for the perfect time to show up to you.  My love is Me.  I am Love.  Do you not see that?

Sure, you'll fall down and you'll hit the ground.  I'm not going to deny that you're going to fall.  Remember that I made you?  You're loved.  I can be disappointed in you but my love will remain.  I'm here for you.  I will not abandon you.  Even though you run far from Me, I'm still here waiting when you return.

Please don't forsake me and I won't forsake You.
I don't deserve this love of infinity .
I don't deserve this grace unending.
I don't deserve this mercy everlasting.
And yet that's You give it.
That is part of what makes it what it is.
And that is part of what makes You, You.

Thank You.

So Full

My heart is full.
Life could be over.
It could end.
Is there anything beyond this?

Still, I say, perfection isn't all it's cracked up to be.
There can be bruises.
There may be scrapes and abrasions.
Love, somehow, still remains.

Tell her she's worth it
because surely she is.
Remember you're not perfect
but nobody is.  Just about.

She understands what you say.
Even when it is your hands that speak.
She understands and there is life here.

If you see my heart
tied on a kite's string
do not be alarmed.
It's been floating about but I'm aware.
I'm not in control, but enough.
There's a bit of a steering wheel
but we share it.

"Whatever's true," you say?
Is this true?  Is it noble?
What is nobility here?
What is his role?
It sure feels true.
It's so full.
Sorry if I can't help but smile.

It's like creation is singing along with us.

Turn it Over, Turn the Page

Every day it's just a little.
But sometimes a little's enough.

A little work goes a long way.
A little love can save the day.

A wish can break you.
A dream can take you
On a journey far away.
From a place you said you'd stay.
To a place where skies aren't gray.

Your heart will beat.
Your eyes will flutter.
And all the flies
Will be type B-utter.

All the boats that have sailed away
Will arrive on shore, in glorious day.
The troubles so quickly find you
Will no longer be able
To so easily drown you.

All their castles made of sand
Will fall asleep under buried land.
And all your fortresses built in hope
Will span the horizon, beyond all scope.

And finally the life that was
Will be turned over and soon enough
You'll see the other side.

It doesn't seem to be Enogh without "U"

Now that we're together my heart is wide open.  I've got butterflies, or maybe I just am one myself, caught up in your net.  It seems there are so many thoughts running through my mind but I can't really think of a complete one.  Everything blends together.  It all spins together into a new and unique mold no one could truly understand.  It's "feeling mush," a feeling that goes beyond a crush.  Something that comes in waves, and there's no rush.

Am I showing the King's devotion to the princess?  I hope not.  This is teaching me more and more what love and devotion are.  I've been lacking so much.  If my time is precious, I must give it more.  I need to spend this valuable time with valuable activities.  Sleeping is for sleepers.  I've been awoken.  My life is brand new..every day!  Don't leave me!  Don't forsake me!  I'm learning.  Mold my heart in Your hands.  Only the hands that made me can save me.

I'm somewhat at a loss.  It's like "there are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how," but in a different way.  I feel like I say it all and still my mind floods.  My heart races.  My feet need braces, keep me still.

Don't stop this,
but keep me still.
My heart is racing,
its invented the wheel.
Take me away,
but keep me still.

The Waking Sleep

Sometimes I sleep more than I wake, but rarely do I wake up in the midst of a dream.  Usually wakefulness is greeted with an acknowledgement of reality.  A welcome nod and then back to sleeping, only with my eyes barely open.

Not lately though.  Lately I've had the privilege to be able to wake up within my dreams.  These days the present is often as whimsical as the dreamworld: my heart beats in and out of time, there are reciprocal feelings, it all somehow seems to be falling into place, it's so surreal.

And yet I'm awake.

How can this be?

When dreams and wakefulness are met with nearly the same feelings, how can one distinguish between the two?  When moments of consciousness seem to outweigh in joy the moments of unconsciousness, it can be difficult to want to sleep very long.  Perhaps this is just the waking sleep.  Or maybe I've just been sleepwalking all this time.  Some days feel like hours and I wish for minute moments to go on for days.

I'm awake in a dream and you'll have to try hard if you wish to fish me out.